The cattle graze upon the down
That leads towards the sky,
The view of patchwork fields on which
The hanging mist does lie,
Beside the peaceful woodland grows
Upon the slopes that fall,
With leaves so green and branches strong
On trees that stand so tall.

The sea is hushed its waters calm
The blue horizon fills,
My senses with its beauty far
Beyond those distant hills,
The way is long and steeply climbs
The well worn path I know,
Past the thorn and yellow gorse
I see the flowers glow.

The air I breathe so pure and clean
That urges me to stay,
I walk until I reach the peak
Then look across the bay,
And see the cliffs of white that reach
Until they disappear,
I feel the breeze that starts to blow
And skies begin to clear.

ANDREW BLAKEMORE

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mottistone-down/