Poem text:
Upon the moors where heather sways,
And tides roll in through misted bays,
A parchment waits with careful hand,
To bind the heart unto the land.
The lease is writ in ink and trust,
On Devon’s soil, so rich, so just;
Each clause a hedge, each line a stone,
That marks the place you’ll call your own.
It speaks of rights, of years to stay,
Of fields where children laugh and play;
Of cottages with chimneyed eaves,
And orchards sweet with autumn leaves.
But more than law, it seems to hold
The sea’s soft hymn, the cliffs of gold;
A promise made where earth meets sea,
That Devon’s grace is yours to be.
So sign your name, let ink release,
A bond of land, a Devon lease;
Not just in paper, pen, and deed,
But roots that grow where dreams are freed.