To Cornwall

I have dreamt of Cornwall
all pasture land- pasture lands and green farms;
ancient slate home fires kindled with evening love
and hedge-rowed narrow lanes leading down to the sea.

Sea cliffs have visited me since my childhood dreams,
visions of millenia of lovers and poets
standing at land's end,
the celtic blue-robed home
of the black and white cross.

I have dreamt of Cornwall and of wandering princes
regal like raptors astrid the wind,
and minstrel galleries are full of tales
of those who gather for pints and good cheer
beside the pub-fire pub-fires of musical hearths.

I have dreamt of Cornwall:
there is forever-music in the tides,
pulsing through the heart of this land,
the legends of sea people
astir in the early morning fog.