Lakeland

In towns where Basic fantasy makes a frown Nature has turned Completely upside down. And day tours emigrate to the Cambrian shore Onboard, the rivers boats from Windermere moving between hills and trees, miles from home where the boughs of orchard greens are overgrown. From distance views are the dreams first caught, But by wagon roads are the scenic marvels wrought. Steep is the pass across from Eskdale to Hardknott. The architect must create when the odds are Great. And stand resolute by luck, for success, failure, or fate Keep the faith Lyvennet flows alone to catch the bait. In Crake valley the vision of dreams is made known On Penrith curb they drove all the way back home. from the distillation realm, everything looks foreign, Solemn and determined, invoke quiet a snarling spell Being the adventurer rage driving furiously out of hell, With Lakeland Muse, ambush by cars on top of a hill. Framed flaws lay beneath the religious camouflage Shadows meandering when winding lanes diverge, An envious world moonlight enriched into a mirage. Out from the woods, alpacas and feral cats emerge. Pale and pickled at the grunting grumbling core. In lush Whitehaven vale oblivious of a full-scale war Continued tours like silhouette building dunes In embroidery gardens, beautiful flowers bloom. Bumblebees, wasps, and flies have wooed and won, The old man ‘Lakeland’, seated on its penitent throne Crocked steam from Ulverston rises on the pond. Another day meets the Crinkle Craggs of Lakeland.