In Smugglers Cave*

The sea runs back against itself
With scarcely time for breaking wave
To cannonade a slatey shelf
And thunder under in a cave.

Before the next can fully burst
The headwind, blowing harder still,
Smooths it to what it was at first -
A slowly rolling water-hill.

Against the breeze the breakers haste,
Against the tide their ridges run
And all the sea's a dappled waste
Criss-crossing underneath the sun.

From Winter Seascape by John Betjeman


*It's not really a Smugglers Cave**

**Well it might be - I dont know if Lunan Bay was big in smuggling