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COAST OF DOWN

 

Here the rocks of time stand,

Bulwark between the sea and land;

Wearing nature’s lichen coat,

Trim for the cauldron’s endless moat.

 

Where birds take rest in the sun,

As they their daily sojourn run;

And fishermen go out to reap

A harvest from the rolling deep.

 

Forefathers stood at this same scene,

Then to leave for pastures green;

As ancestors came to find this shore,

Perhaps a thousand years before.

 

Whins from the hill like a curtain sweep,

And gnarled thorns their vigil keep;

As curling lips of wave caress the sand,

Tide in retreat out from the land.

 

Splendour of springtime’s midday ray,

Shines on the foraging Seal at play;

One doesn’t need to wander and rove;

Heaven is a Downshire cove.

 

Monty Alexander 5.3.04

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