Farewell To Purbeck

I wander over purbecks hills

and trudge along her vales,

For I am bound for foreign parts:

The morrow my ship sails.

And I must have one last long look

At scenes so dear to me,

Before I leave this lovely land

and sail across the sea.

And though I wander far and wide,

And sail the seven seas,

My heart will live in purbecks isle,

No sight brings joy like these.

And surging memories will rise

When life is hushed and still,

And all the chambers of my mind

With thoughts of home will fill.

When dawn, with rose and pearl and gold

Bedecks the orient sky,

Across the opal blossomed bay,

We'll sail, my boat and I.

Wither the tossing waters surge,

Around "Old Harrys" feet,

And eddying breezes fill the sail,

and strain the dripping sheet.

Amongst the rocks at Punfield Cove

I`ll search for tourmaline,

And agate for my sweethearts brooch,

And marcasite, so sheen.

I`ll see the pussy willows grey,

In Ulwells withy beds,

And in her gardens, daffodils,

A tossing golden heads.

And squirrels spring from branch to branch,

In Rempstone`s beechen woods,

The bluebells and the primroses

In leafy solitudes.

The sapphires and the diamonds,

The purple and the jade;

Upon the shining countenance

Of Durlston bay displayed.

And guillemots and razorbills

Ride on rippling sea,

Where "Tilly Whim's" stark ramparts rise

In rugged majesty.

And ocean in her robe of blue,

With pearl embroided edge,

Trailing it lightly, to and fro

On lovely Dancing Ledge.

Or when in angry mood she drives

The silver crested waves,

To break with thunder on the rocks

And subterranean caves.

On Flower's Barrow I will lie,

Upon the thymy turf,

And hear the sheep bells tinkling tones,

The murmur of the surf.

And then one morn, in early spring,

When buds are on the tree,

I`ll make my way to Kingston Hill,

And there perchance I`ll see.

A castle, rising through the mist,

Ghost like, ethereal,

Peopled with phantoms of the past,

Knight, squire and paladin..

Up Ballard Down's steep slopes I`ll climb,

Then "rest and thankful be",

For all the scenes of loveliness,

The view presents to me.

The foam-fringed sands of Stud land Bay,

Like gleaming scimitar,

The village bosomed in the trees,

The enchanted Isle afar.

Along Nine Barrows grassy track,

Where bells of heather blow,

And ragwort`s gleaming cohorts stand,

My errant steps will go.

On wings of fancy I will fly,

Past lonely cott and barn,

Across the sombre, wind-swept heath,

To goat horn, Ower and Arne.

When lengthening shadows from the hills

steal slowly o`er the land,

Enraptured by the wondrous scene,

Upon Swire Head  I`ll stand.

From Chapmans pool to Portland Bill,

Gad cliff to Lulworth cove,

Past Clevalls hard and Brandy bay,

My questing eyes will rove.

Until the golden sun has set

Behind Creech Barrow`s head,

And all the glorious pageantry

In sky and sea has fled.

And night with all her starry train

Has come on sable wings ,

And spreads upon a sleeping world

Her velvet coverings.

~Sidda~

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