ON THE BEACH JUST BEFORE CROSSING THE SWAD ON TO LINDISFARNE
So many a long journey makes the Son of the Sea,
to rise mists, to calm waters,
whilst his subject fairy
tills the grounds.
So our moments are made just to be,
on Saint Cuthbert's path under the sun,
between the crispy grain.
A CHARM FOR MANY A LOVELY DAY
In Tir Tairngiré, "where falls no hail,
or rain, or any snow,
nor ever the wind blows loudley",
dawn came at six thirty,
with titts in the pines,
and the sound of the cones opening.
And the sun dried my lips from Earn's water
This was on the second day.
Between many a shimmering birch,
a lass of Glen Lochy would play.
On Ben Cruachan's dark stern,
many a white spirit of fern,
is to go when the sun is to stay.
ON THE DIFFERENT BEAUTIES OF THE NORTHERN SIDE AND THE SOUTHERN SIDE MOORS IN A GLEN.
Under the veils of the brides of Loch Lochard,
you'll find many a bride from Loch Lubhair;
for the grooms from Ben More in fine tartan,
may cheat on the greens of Meall a Churain.
Sundown at Rubh a'Mharaich,
shades of: yellow, pink, red.
O'er Dunaverty rock and Ailsa Craig,
last clouds fled.
This is such a night that is liable,
to send my love across,
I know Fand will guide her,
till her toes touch the moss.
Now 'Rest and be Thankfull' between spreads of azure,
in the Summery Isles of Eden;
with bramble and partridge,
with watercress and salmon,
and heather on the moor.
Come bellows, come flutes;
bring on singers,
make the countryside resound.
Fourfold is the music from the Oak tree:
with the sobbing sounds of weeping,
with the gails of laughter,
and the whispers of Elain,
the lily maid of Astolat,
to the flow of the songs of mankind.
Now 'Rest and be Thankful' between spreads of azure,
in Gwlâd yr Hâv.
Two pillows for the King's Head,
and the sun in the Gill,
from the sheep folds and the swallow holes,
and rabbits at Peat Moor Rigg.
From the shake holes, to Ramps Holme Bridge,
over Ivelet moor and Black Hill;
over Beal Hill and dear Kisdon Scar,
and long after teatime in Gunnerside streets,
last sun & first shades are gay.
And there is fern in the pillows on a king's bed,
for a long love's play.
When ample thought has chosen Blackhall Rocks,
the seaside coves preferred to Castle Eden,
There's thrill in sunsets over Cleveland Hills,
gold over weathered Witbey Abbey; even for me,
Now starboard quarter has dark Lincoln Wolds,
Norfolk's eve abeam, in Brancaster Road, is lighter;
When quietly, port / port quarter Dogger's purple grey, we glide;
a half September Scottish sundown can't be brighter.
The promises for more of that, from rainbows
show mercy for the crops this night;
Manannán and his folk keep apples well from blight there.
poems written at The Old Hall near Jervaulx
Abbey, Yorkshire, 2002 by Joop Visser;