‘Cross springy grass with sodden shoes

where mountainside and valley fuse,

up zig-zag paths where slopes are steep

trod by the hooves of countless sheep;

and now we too traverse and climb

through clumps of clover, strewn with thyme.

 

Around the scree, across the rocks

and wind-whipped dandelion clocks

until atop that final knoll

where motionless we stood in thrall,

though winds cut like a surgeon’s blade,

to see the vista there arrayed.

 

Fast scudding clouds in sun-swept blue;

beneath, green fields of every hue

where cattle graze and cornfields grow

and through them lazy rivers flow,

until in distant majesty

the roiling white and azure sea.