Poem by John Betjeman

Dawlish

Bird-watching colonels on the old sea wall,
Down here at Dawlish where the slow trains crawl:
Low tide lifting, on a shingle shore,
Long-sunk islands from the sea once more:
Red cliffs rising where the wet sands run,
Gulls reflecting in the sharp spring sun;
Pink-washed plaster by a sheltered patch,
Ilex shadows upon velvet thatch:
What interiors those names suggest!
Queen of lodgings in the warm south-west….

1. Cornish Cliffs
2. South London Sketch
3. In Westminster Abbey
4. Mortality
5. The Licorice Fields at Pontefract

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