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