Beeny

{{Other uses|Beeny (surname)}}

{{Use dmy dates|date=October 2019}}

{{Use British English|date=June 2025}}

{{Infobox UK place

|country = England

|coordinates = {{coord|50.70075|-4.67022|display=inline,title}}

|official_name =Beeny

| static_image_name = Beeny Cliff - geograph.org.uk - 1565213.jpg

| static_image_caption = Beeny Cliff

|population =

|shire_district=

|shire_county= Cornwall

|region= South West England

|constituency_westminster=

|post_town= BOSCASTLE

|postcode_district = PL35

|postcode_area=PL

|dial_code=

|os_grid_reference= SX1192

}}

Beeny is a hamlet in north Cornwall, England, UK. It lies in a sheltered valley near the coast two miles (3 km) northeast of Boscastle.Ordnance Survey: Landranger map sheet 190 Bude & Clovelly {{ISBN|978-0-319-23145-6}}

Literary allusions

Very specifically there is a poem by Thomas Hardy, perhaps better known for his prose works.

Beeny Cliff

March 1870 - March 1913

O the opal and the sapphire of that wandering western sea

And the woman riding high above with bright hair flapping free -

The woman who I loved so, and who loyally loved me.

The pale mews plained below us, and the waves seemed far away

In a nether sky, engrossed in saying their ceaseless babbling say,

As we laughed light-heartedly aloft on that clear-sunned March day.

A little cloud then cloaked us, and there flew an irised rain.

And the Atlantic dyed its levels with a dull misfeatured stain,

And then the sun burst out again, and purples prinked the main.

- Still in all its chasmal beauty bulks old Beeny to the sky,

And shall she and I not go there once again now March is nigh,

And the sweet things said in that March say anew there by and by?

What if still in chasmal beauty looms that wild weird western shore,

The woman now is - elsewhere - whom the ambling pony bore,

And nor knows nor cares for Beeny, and will laugh there nevermore.

Further, in "A Death-Day Recalled," collected in Satires of Circumstance (1914), Thomas Hardy wrote:

Beeny did not quiver,


  Juliot grew not gray,


Thin Vallency's river


  Held its wonted way.


Bos seemed not to utter


  Dimmest note of dirge,


Targan mouth a mutterI.e. Pentargon


  To its creamy surge.

Yet though these, unheeding,


  Listless, passed the hour


Of her spirit's speeding,


  She had, in her flower,


Sought and loved the places


  Much and often pined


For their lonely faces


  When in towns confined.

Why did not Vallency


  In his purl deplore


One whose haunts were whence he


  Drew his limpid store?


Why did Bos not thunder,


  Targan apprehend


Body and Breath were sunder


  Of their former friend?

Notable residents

References

{{Reflist}}