On a balmy evening without breeze,

wafts of spring vegetation in humid air,

the smell of an exotic ocean.

The dark hulk of the hill, a huge ship

bearing down on the flat-calm valley.

The upper ramparts, the bridge,

with a view over distant lights

winking in the mist like far-off vessels.

A church bell chiming the hour is a clanking buoy

and the swish of traffic, the sound of water.

Out at sea on Hambledon Hill...