Cape Cornwall, in the far west, is the only cape in England and Wales, and is a ferocious sight with a full gale blowing and the surf exploding over the offshore Brisons.
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I must get into open ground,
The city crushes me,
High on Bodmin to fling around
Or shout beside the sea.
Ah,
the brown flanks of Garrow Tor,
Streaming
under rain,Whipped raggedly by the wind’s roar
Are to me pure gain.
And
in the cove at Cornwall Cape
As
the breakers leap and scream,The slapping spray on the neck’s nape
Is like waking from a dream.
Oh,
the high sky, the moorland track,
Rock,
sedge and pool,Are fresh as childhood given back
Hushed in the morning cool.
And
wide-miled sands at slack of tide,
Tart
with the water’s breath,Are absence where the seagulls glide
Yelling of life and death.
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©
April 2015