Everytime I Visualize

I am from the place of the silver back crow
Where Finnow from Gneeves to the Blackwater flow
But in my visualizations distance disappear
And in fancy the  song of the curlew i hear
Above Matty Owens bog in the twilight gray
In the calm of the evening in the prime of the May
 A voice from the past that is with me  today
Old memories die hard as some  are known to say
As the shades of darkness envelope the late evening sky
Above the rushy fields the male snipe does fly
And  all through the night whilst he is flying around
With his wings and his tail he  makes a goat like sound
From me old fields not distant i have come to realize
I walk in them everytime i visualize.