Hidden in the valley folds
You cannot see them. You have to climb the hill
And view them from afar.
Silently they graze
A Constable picture framed by trees
In Canaletto`s light.
Golden brown coats gleam in the heat
Of the afternoon. The silent fawns
Evoke Debussy`s haunting music.
Graceful and demure
They seem ethereal, as distancing themselves from man
They inhabit the mystic world of Blake.
Redolent of other, spacious times;
A paean to peace and freedom
They do not kill or injure;
Anachronistic in this world
Their dwelling is the light of setting suns
An everlasting childhood vision
Of mists and mellow fruitfulness.
© A.B. Finlay Ph.D