MARBLE CLIFFS 6i 



marble is sovereign among those giants who clasp 

 hands to make the crust and skeleton of the round 

 earth. It is always beautiful. Time touches it only 

 to new splendours of form, and a thousand sunrises 

 spread thereon shall each write a new glory, if one 

 can but read the line of it, as every word flames out 

 from some soft radiance into shadow — from shadow 

 back again to light. 



All flowers may find their colours here, and the 

 cliffs can bud and blossom at the sun's command 

 into a whole gamut of tones and undertones ranging 

 through the metals to the gems ; from the gleam and 

 glow of a fire-opal to the pure blue of turquoise, 

 where the sea-light is thrown up against a shadow ; 

 from the ruddy iron flush in veins, and percolated 

 streams and washes, to the dun and the grey of wide 

 surfaces, swept and dimmed by microscopic growths. 



Flowers unnumbered love the limestone, and 

 some there are that cannot live away from it. 

 Samphires make a chrysoprase lacework against the 

 grey, where each finds a cleft to shake forth his 

 serrated foliage and yellow umbel ; the sea silene 

 lights up cliff-edge and cranny with tender flowers 

 and grey-green foliage ; the pellitory, though it best 

 loves ruined masonry, abides here also; and the thrift 

 gems its sturdy cushions of green with countless little 

 pink pearls of blossom that shine out a soft, pure, rose 

 against the stone. Sedums also flourish, and the sea- 

 gulls crop them green for their own needs. The nests 

 that I have found in such places are built of dead 



