Archive - Wednesday, 29 January 2003


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Fylingdales

HERE I have walked and loved the moorland scene,

Finding a pleasure rare in heather, stream and sky.

From early boyhood days, when aching legs,

Scratched by the bracken, seemed but a cause for pride,

Symbol of prowess for a father's eye.

Carefree in student friendship too, I came,

Swinging with song and laughter through a golden day,

From quiet Iburndale and Falling Foss,

Names caught in memory, Biller and Jugger Howe,

Seawards at evening, down the lanes to 'Bay'.

Happy in youthful love, my girl I brought,

Sharing enchantments new, brief interludes to dream,

In friendly magic then the hills were clothed,

Sweet too the heather, couch for an idle hour,

Haven secluded by some singing stream.

This, then, the Fylingdales that I, and mine, have known,

Have cherished, and, in my heart, will always own.

Submitted by Mr J Scruton,

Malton.

Updated: 11:40 Wednesday, January 29, 2003