Hi folks - this is a classical style poem I originally penned last September - I've had it professionally critiqued by a friend of mine in Chicago, and tried to make amendments accordingly.  I would love to know what you all think.

The story is a one I made up about the ghost of a young fisherman, who haunts the wild cliffs of Kenavara (Ceann a Bharra in the Gaelic).  He was one of the many drowned (in reality) prior to the comissioning of the Skerryvore lighthouse by the "Lighthouse Stevensons" - the Uncle of Robert Louis Stevenson, in fact.  He was from the island of Barra, and had just been married to his sweetheart, Sara - who, unbeknownst to them both was pregnant with his son.

Hope you like this piece of fancy.

Oli