Orrisdale

The silver sea, the golden sand,

The smiling meadows green and fair;

The beaming sun, the azure sky,

The charmed fragrance of the air;

The babbling brook, its banks of fern

The sandy cliffs streaked brown and cream,

The myriad shingle of the beach –

Oh, Orrisdale, of thee I dream !

 

The blazing gorse, the feathery broom,

The fuchsia stained with crimson wine;

The cushag stars, the heather bells,

The graceful stems of columbine;

The dazzling whiteness of the crofts,

That on the verdant hillside gleam

The song of larks, the bleat of sheep

Oh, Orrisdale, of thee I dream !

 

Mona’s Herald     18.9.62