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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=414692" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The High Moors for M'lady Tara</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I love the beauty of the moors. Those vast expanses wild and free<br>But I am prejudiced of course; there is no place I’d rather be.<br>In any season I feel at home. The winte, spring, summer or fall.<br>Be because I claim the right to roam. There are no rules here none at all.<br>The only laws are those decreed by mother nature long ago<br>Thou shalt not kill except to feed. The laws all living creatures know.<br>I love the freshness of the spring despite the fact the winds are keen<br>I am quite happy wandering to search for any sign of green.<br>The bitter winter slowly passed and soon the hillsides will be grassed<br>Though snow still lingers here and there. As bald spots undergo repair.<br>Underground new life is stirring as the sunshine returns with spring<br>to warm the winter frozen land. This artistry I understand<br>Natures consummate artistry: Infinite in variety<br>Each plant supplies a different hue and shadows add a touch of blue.<br>A contrast to the greenery which dominates the scenery<br>The purple heather showing through as spring continues to renew.<br>The beauty of the moors again to be enjoyed other men<br>Who love the moors as much as me, a privilege completely free.<br>Eventually spring slips away, the moors preparing for the day<br>When they will bask beneath the sun. A slow process which has begun.<br>Beneath a sky of cloudless blue I chose a spot where I can view<br>The kestrels circling on patrol and see the landscape as a whole<br>With my field glasses I can see the sunlight gleaming on the sea<br>Much further than my naked eye and for moment wish that I<br>Had wings so I could freely fly (indulging in a fantasy) <br>Towards my other love the sea, dream I know that cannot be.<br>The year moves on at its own pace as autumn waits to take her place<br>The twilight falls much earlier, this is my favourite time of year.<br>The pace of life is slowing down the greenery is turning brown<br>The heather fades to lavender, wise rodents store their provender; <br>The young birds long since flown the nest are gathering to start their quest.<br> Quite soon they’ll start their journeyings carried on well practiced wings<br>The colours of the high moors fade no longer purple, gold and jade<br>Assuming neutral brown and dun the change to winter has begun<br>The north wind blows and sprinkles snow.In winter time I do not go<br>up to the moors I’ve earned the right to stay inside where I can write.<br>I am too old to brave the cold. I leave that to the young and bold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">13/08/2009<br>http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ivor+Or+Ivor.e+Hogg">Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=414692" data-title="The High Moors for M'lady Tara de Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg" data-description="I love the beauty of the moors. Those vast expanses wild and free
But I am prejudiced of course; there is no place I’d rather be.
In any season I feel at home. The winte, spring, summer or fall.
Be because I claim the right to roam. There are no..."></div>
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