There it stands
on the edge of the sands,
washed by spray
all night and day,
the old lighthouse,
empty and still,
echoes shrill
with the sounds
of screaming seabirds.
Never more at night
will its beam of light,
powerful and bright,
sweep the sea.
Never more;
for it is dead and gone,
and near the shore
the lighthouse
stands forlorn.
Tan Pratonix
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-old-lighthouse/
