Crystal clear spring water
Moss covered trees
Sharp sharp sunlight
Pictures by the stream
A place of respite
A place for solitary escape
Except, every now, every then
Shared by the joy of the boy
But it’s just not true
As some might have you think
That together we did not care
For the moorland brooks or leats
Indeed a part of our
Very Dartmoor beginning
Was beside moonlit fords
With roaming herds of ponies
No wonder then that my magnetic energy draws me
To Sampford Spiney or to Whitchurch Down
The granite, the compass also, they so so attracted me
They so so firmly chose to direct me to places about you
