Yes, the chimneys and the coast-guard stations and the little bays with the waves breaking unseen by any one make one remember the overpowering sorrow.
And what can this sorrow be?
It is brewed by the earth itself.

It comes from the houses on the coast.
We start transparent, and then the cloud thickens.

All history backs our pane of glass.

To escape is vain.
But whether this is the right interpretation of Jacob's gloom as he sat naked, in the sun, looking at the Land's End, it is impossible to say; for he never spoke a word.

Timmy sometimes wondered (only for a second) whether his people bothered him....