A day of cooler clime it takes me there

 

The wind on Cornish cliffs
says there’s a God

The faces bleached & bare
don’t spare the rod

Before the clan of men
these edges trod

Where flourishes sea bass,
pilchard and cod

The moss along the beach
are gathered first

Within the forces, rains
that try one’s thirst

The seagulls tack and cry
amid the ports

With ev’ry kind
humanity and sorts

While coastal fronts
between to drive a wedge

The trolls that tend the bogs,
the faery hedge

The legends, myths & tales
in forest swamp

Across the thick and green
the Shetlands romp

Their nicker sounds to toss
their shaggy manes

While over in the marsh,
two common cranes

Into more subtle seek
a subject wades

Into a Cornish reach
such depth evades

May time & weather’s vane
to those who sail

Return ye Cornwall once
upon a gale




Image: The National Trust