Switzerland
(For Lucinda)
Cities are here, of course, grim urban sprawls,
Dull factories and drear industrial sites,
Linked by black spider-webs of motorways;
But these seem insignificant compared
With what surround and mitigate their blights.
Small towns still crowd inside their ancient walls;
Proudly, old villages boast beaux châteaux;
Timeless traditions, too, are honoured here
As they should be, since Switzerland has been
For centuries an inland island where,
(Beholden to no others), flourishes
An independent spirit.
Scant in size,
But with more ample attributes supplied
Than many larger lands, this little space
Is fit for lovers, poets and all those
Who find delight in Nature’s grand displays,
(Or subtler nuances of light and shade),
As season-changes seamlessly transform
Colours and textures everywhere; each scene
Transfigured as the weeks and months pass by:
With mountains everywhere in view; rivers,
Lakes, forests, farmlands rarely out of sight;
Impressive waterfalls to charm the eye;
Dense woods that hide bears, wolves, wild boar and deer;
High alpage hosting cattle, marmots, goats
And herdsmen with their plangent alpenhorns
As eagles, gyring overhead, observe
Spry chamois dance on perilous escarps.
Immerse your heart and mind in what it offers you
And maybe you will find that dreams sometimes come true.
