Wiltshire Memories
Green trees look down in regal splendour
upon the lushness of prolific summer;
the gentle sweep of grassy slopes
echoing the soft lullaby of Nature.
Whispering leaves above the cricket’s chorus,
calling onward to the pink flush of sunset,
looking back with fond reflection
upon those pleasant Wiltshire summers
when life had just begun.
Rolling fields of golden corn
stretching far beyond the country Inn.
a place where farmhands rested tired feet,
and stopped to quaff a jug of English Ale.
Where the lustre of red-gold sunset
hangs deep into the velvet night,
carried onward into tomorrow
by the gentle breezes of the summer evening,
scented sweet by the new-mown swathes.
In the distance, past the sloping Downs,
where chalk beasts watch the closing day,
as the last fading rays of sunlight fall,
bringing the cool of silvered moon,
Then I will rest, safe till dawn breaks.
I’ll sleep sound, wrapped by dry stone walls,
the ancient stones supporting musty thatch,
dreaming of West Country life,
Where man can pleasant moments snatch.
© Colin Gordon-Farleigh
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