Ernestine Northover - The Scenes One Sees

I sat upon a dry stone wall,
And looked towards the distant hills,
The ferns around my feet grew tall,
Convolvulus too, with its long tendrils.

Down in the valley a church I spied,
With a weathervane atop its tower,
A solitary place, now unoccupied,
Whose clock did chime on every hour.

On the horizon sat a misty haze,
A softening blue, so cool a look,
And down the lane, the sheep did graze,
Alongside a rippling, and singing brook.

I stood and stretched my weary form,
And started down a rutted track,
The air was sultry and so warm,
Pleasant too, as I started back.

How fine, the countryside in spring,
In summer and in autumn hues,
And winter, when we went rambling,
Pulling on waterproof walking shoes.

The changing seasons come and go,
And all have beauty to be seen,
The summer sunshine and winter snow,
Through which emerge, trees evergreen.

So stop and dally for a while,
And breathe the fresh and balmy breeze,
Then thank God for this treasured isle,
And marvel at the scenes one sees.

Ernestine Northover

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