Bluebells

 

The Bluebell Wood – Felix Dennis

 

We walked within an ancient wood

Beside the Heart-of-England way

Where oak and beech and hazel stood,

Their leaves the pale shades of May.

 

By bole and bough, still black with rain,

The sunlight filtered where it would

Across a glowing, radiant stain—

We stood within a bluebell wood!

 

And stood and stood, both lost for words,

As all around the woodland rang

And echoed with the cries of birds

Who sang and sang and sang and sang…

 

My mind has marked that afternoon

To hoard against life’s stone and sling;

Should I go late, or I go soon,

The bluebells glow— the birds still sing.

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