The South Downs
The common blues go fluttering by seeking out the sun,
In sheltered hollows facing south '“ sweet nectar to be won
From marjoram, thistle, thyme and vetch, wild strawberry, rock rose
And then alongside bumblebees, they quietly rest and doze.
The skylark rises high above warbling its joyous sound,
Then sinks down, singing all the way, until it nears the ground.
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Hide AdOld churches, houses, boundary walls use flint seen on your walk
And lies there on the surface, having sweat up through the chalk.
The Sussex Downs are cherished well and high in our affection,
But pressure builds upon these hills '“ they must have more protection
From inappropriate planning which might ever leave its mark
Astride the lonely grass lined Downs; we need a National Park.
Don Filliston