THE MAGIC OF A DARTMOOR SCENE. You can see, I can feel it, In my dreams, Across the barren wastes of beauty,, When I am far away, My need it is to come ,Oh so close, Yet when I come near, the vast nest I touch, And that which is Dartmoor does swallow my being, Feel Rock of Granite carved by wind, alone, On Tors ever stretching into those glorious Heavens, Listen to those babbling brooks, Smell purple heather, yellow gorse See dark wooded glade of green, Moody is the magic of a Dartmoor scene, Moments of Sun ,and chillen winds, Together with Snows so deep, Mists which fade in, blotting out, Animals live upon a Dartmoor scene, Stag noble head aloft, Fox cunning cat like, the lone hunter in all pursuits, Then come Bader Otter, Hare and Squirrel, Black face sheep and Moorland Cattle, Forgetting not, that which is part of a Dartmoor Scene, Ponies, Magpie; nature great collector share the skies with Hawk and Falcon, With all these creatures who share the Moor, There is another, Mankind, Dartmoor Man called it, Or did it call Man? Casting spells over them who came, Who first love the magic of a Dartmoor scene? For a cruel love it is, a love so deep in depth of mood, Men have died loving it, Those who come in Summer searching out the know not what! Leave, having found it not! Return they must to find the Magic of a Dartmoor Scene, Oh, my words are few and futile, I cannot express my feelings for Dartmoor and her Moods, Paper is a man made medium, To hold in the hand, And Dartmoor is living, And therefore cannot be held in the hand. ,