Past Arnside where the meadows blur with bay,
small pools of landlocked sky collect
among defiant green.
The sun clocks off and slips away,
distress flares from a Titan
streak the pastoral scene.
At Grange over Sands
grey stone frames an abstract view
of crimson, yellow, gold and rust
The thus depicted inlet, dims
and softly scolds
impatient dusk.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely little poem - Arnside is one of my favourite places too, have been there many times.