A recent visitor sent us this charming poem, inspired by and largely written in Dalemain Gardens. We are delighted that she found her surroundings so beautiful and simply had to share it. If anyone else has been inspired by Dalemain or the surrounding landscape, and would like to share poetry, art or photographs, we would love to see them!

 

 

 

 

Dalemain Mansion

Fishing rods packed in the boot

Jack was off to catch a trout

He dropped me off at Dalemain House

For an historical afternoon out

I Started in the tearoom

Couldn’t resist the cake and tea

Before the 1 o’clock tour around the house

How interesting it would be

From medieval through to Georgian

Many treasures did it hold

The house guide took us through the rooms

And what a brilliant tale she told

The Chinese painted wallpaper

All worked delicately by hand

An 18th Century masterpiece

It made the room look very grand

The chairs made especially for that room

In good quality dark brown oak

The rug designed to match the rest

These were very wealthy folk

The Story of Lady Anne Clifford

Her diary recounts her sad tale

Father left Dalemain to her cousin

Just because she wasn’t a male

Anne won it back in later years

When a male heir was not in sight

She moved back in to end her days

No further need to fight

The gardens were extensive

They were an absolute delight

Walked along the coloured terrace

Flowerbeds to left and right

The far view to the grazing sheep

A special view to behold

Was very restful to the eye

Pure manna for the soul

Along the way the rose lined walk

I stopped to smell the flowers

Pale Pink, Deep Red, and gold and white

Before the shaded bowers

I sat awhile to sit and think

And start to write my verse

The inspiration still in mind

I relaxed, and sat immersed

The first seven verses now writ down

I carried on exploring

The lower garden still to view

My spirits started soaring

Down slippery steps I trod my way

The lower garden beckoned

Informal, wild with dragon head hedge

Quite a special place I reckoned

Back up the steps to explore some more

Had the wood and stumpery to see

A tree filled place with a seat to reflect

But alone, it seemed eerie to me

By now 4 o’clock so I found my way back

To the teashop, but Jack wasn’t there

So I trotted along to the giftshop to find

My present for me in their wares

Lady Anne Clifford’s Diaries the book I desired

No longer would I be vexed

I then wondered if Jack was by now on his way

I had better check for a text

Not one, but two messages now on my ‘phone

‘Leaving now’ and ‘In the car park’ came over

Oh Good, no long wait to get back to the Van

There he was, in the Landrover

No trout for our tea, I was sad to find out

But so pleased that he’d had a good day

Fly fishing’s not easy, there is quite a knack

And it takes quite a while, they all say

By Joan Birchley