Oh fair land of Arthur, of unsurpassed beauty,
Home of the farmer and fisherman's art
May ever I live twixt your shores and the Tamar
In the home of my children, the home of my heart
A constant of changing wave-lust ridden coastline
God-gifted to wreckers who reap where you've sown
Warm-wrapped in a blanket of feather-soft sea mist
Where surfers and mermaids played long in your foam
Your rocks and high moorland of granite and couch grass,
Birds call as they fly over circles of stone....
Standing tall, telling tales of Nine Maidens and Hurlers
Now wind-rushed and blustered, together, alone.
Fair land of the farmer and fisher and miner
As industries new waste the net, plough and mine
This place, once our Eden, has Eden provided
Past, present and future, stands timeless in time
Hello Lucy, You've described a lovely place. Nice use of rhythm, images. Warmest regards, CJ
That's a really nice poem Lucy, I have holidayed in Cornwall and loved it so much, mostly North Cornwall. Sincerely Ernestine Northover
You really know how to use rhythm. This read beautifully and reminded me, powerfully, of Keats with a few of the phrases. I must say though; i've always been an Arthur was Welsh kinda man myself. And you forgot to add how perversely individual the Cornish have always been!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You have the gift of making us homesick for the beautiful places of your heart.