Bird-watching colonels on the old sea wall,
Down here at Dawlish where the slow trains crawl:
Low tide lifting, on a shingle shore,
Long-sunk islands from the sea once more:
Red cliffs rising where the wet sands run,
Gulls reflecting in the sharp spring sun;
Pink-washed plaster by a sheltered patch,
Ilex shadows upon velvet thatch:
What interiors those names suggest!
Queen of lodgings in the warm south-west.... 

Added: Apr 8 2005 | Viewed: 1172 times | Comments (0)

Poet: John Betjeman
Poem: Dawlish

Poem of the Day on:
Oct 15 2005
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