Britain, Poetry, Travel

A Ballad for the Shires | Poetry

The dales before me brightly stood -
Cloaked in a flowing lush green gown; 
A lone form beckoned to me in dreams -
A forest nymph in an emerald crown. 

On a crisp day, I arrive at Ribblesdale
When the summer sun shines bright; 
The whisper of the whistling breeze -
Has set my wandering spirits alight.
Horton-in-Ribblesdale, Selside
Todmorden, Stoodly Pike
I idle away at the grassy moorland
From the break of morn till nigh.
I burst into a flood of happy tears -
Fond remembrance welled my eye.

The beaming dells, the charming fells -
Have smitten me in my weakest spot. 
The shires are where travelers reclaim -
The simple joys that they have lost.
Huddersfield, Marsden
Huddersfield, Marsden
The Pen-y-Ghent in blues and greens
Glimmered in beams of sparkling light. 
The ups ‘n downs of its flattened crown -
Rose to a sheer majestic height. 

The English sun came shining down 
On the surrounding dales, vales ‘n fells - 
Lo! and behold! this is an enchanted land; 
It is here where my heart dwells!
Pen – y -Ghent
On and on, I followed a winding trail 
That many before me must have trod; 
The jagged rocks and those clever twists - 
At times, it is with danger fraught! 

Little by little, I traveled many a mile 
Conquering a few treacherous climbs; 
The isolation grew and silence befell; 
I had lost the sense of earthly time.
Horton-in-Ribblesdale, Selside
A singing lark soared high up in the air; 
A baby linnet fluttered around in glee;
Wood sorrels grew in shadowy patches -
Their petite white petals beamed at me.
This must be the shire of Frodo 'n Sam; 
Here, the brave ‘n noble hobbits thrive. 
The forbidden love of Cathy and Heath -
Amidst all tumultuous perils survive! 

The Brandywine river, the village of Bree 
Came alive before my wistful eye; 
Cloud puffs of golden dragon smoke -
Sailed in the white and silvery sky.
Huddersfield, Marsden
In the dales lay dark and mystical pools
From the old and ancient days of yore; 
Where magic still lives, weaving dark tales 
Of heroic legends and tragic folklores.
Clapham cum Newby – Chapel-le-Dale
The untamed moors 'n the wilderness 
Lie in a deep slumber under the stars.
I travel on and on, past lands and seas -
And reach my heavenly abode afar. 

And when I’m weary, weak and dreary 
Surviving life’s tempestuous tests; 
I come back to thee with joyful glee; 
Near you, my heart finds eternal rest.

© Copyright: The post Back to the Shire| Yorkshire| England  first appeared on The Ecstatic Storyteller. The author reserves the right to the content and the pictures.

23 thoughts on “A Ballad for the Shires | Poetry”

  1. I always dream of visiting the Yorkshire Dales one day. I have read about in James Herriot’s books and now you have written about the green meadows and dales so beautiful. Thank you for bring me closer to Yorkshire virtually.


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