The East Lyn River, Exmoore, North Devon
The East Lyn River swiftly flows
Through Exmoor; to the sea it goes.
Through Moorland, farmland, it rushes to greet
Hoar Oak Water at Watersmeet.
Through woodland, beautiful, serene,
The river, crystal clear and clean,
Skips lightly over pebbled shore,
Past grassy banks with leafy floor.
Twisting, tumbling, on its way,
Reflecting light from the sun's ray.
Huge boulders look like natural walls
And cause cascading waterfalls.
Around and over rocks it darts;
Past tiny islets the river parts,
Then comes together once again
To dart past Lynbridge, down and then
On to Lynmouth it rushes in,
There to merge with the East Lyn,
Onward, rushing, flowing free,
To Lynmouth harbour, where it meets the sea.
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The Rambler
The rambler set off from the village inn
And off down the road he went.
He turned on to a part through fern and whin,
Then by along fence he leant.
Now over a stile, and into a field,
And close to a hedgerow he kept.
The sun shone down, and his eyes he did shield;
By now he was looking windswept.
Over a stile, and down a footpath;
Through farmyard, and past an old yew.
Past a huge hollow rock called, "The Devil's Bath,"
Where, strongly, a north wind blew.
Over the hills and along the fells,
'Cross streams that were so clear,
Through enchanting little dwells,
And past a lonely weir.
Through two stone gate posts,
Down a track,
Where bluebells bloom in hosts,
And the rolling hills sweep back.
He stopped awhile and looked around
And pondered at the view.
Majestic moorland with green clad ground
Made him draw in breath anew.
'Long a sixteenth century packhorse track
And over a high hill's crest.
For just a moment the rambler looked back,
Than on to a hostel, and rest.
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