 |
| a well managed
rhyne |
Man of the moors
James Field, our North Somerset Levels
and Moors Officer has sent in a poem by one of the farmers he works with
on the Levels, called "Born of the Moor" and it paints a really
evocative picture of the North Somerset Levels and Moors. The farmer
wishes to remain anonymous but we are delighted that he’s let us
share his poem wiith our members...
Here I am but a man of the moor
Between the Mendips and Bridgewater shore
This level land of shades green
A mosaic formed by water and of rhyne
This land of withies and of peat
Which I have learned how to treat
Like the needs of a precocious child
Which intends forever to remain wild
Summerlands where the county gets its’ name
For winter is flood and teeming with game
Migrating flocks linger on to feast
For here is not the time for man or beast
Man has tried to tame you by hand and horse
As swans gracefully browse the watercourse
Where water is king they are the Queen
A whiteness in reflections of the scene
With moist soils and a lengthening day
Grass grows abundant by early May
Cattle graze and bloom on this spring flush
For everything now is green and lush
And in the meadows the flowering heads
Sway in the yellow, purple, pinks and reds
Butterflies dance among as it grows tall
Long before the mower makes it fall
And in the evenings of this broad sky
A multitude of starlings join to fly
To whirl and swirl in waves of display
Then down among the reeds to end the day
He quiet stillness and then glorious sound
Is what the listener like me has found
The whispering breeze through poplar and willow
Sends me to slumber with head on pillow
To the splendour of colours at sundown
As it casts long shadows across the ground
Of willow and poplar post and gate
I stand and gaze there to appreciate
The low horizons and enveloping sky
For here is where I will stay and die
For I am but a man of the moor
Between the Mendips and Bridgewater shore |
