In honour of time spent in nature’s bright and gentle company yesterday, I wanted to share some reflective verse and photographs:

Benediction for Bluebells

Woodland floor, engulfed in precious purple petals,

Hues of magical violet softly illuminate my sight,

Shine forth, ye gathering crowds of bluebells,

Your springtime violet copse spreads pure delight!

Fragrant faces of flowers, grace the sodden ground,

No greater English beauty; there can be found.

By Virginia Burges

**

The Bluebell ~ by Emily Bronte

The Bluebell is the sweetest flower

That waves in summer air:

Its blossoms have the mightiest power

To soothe my spirit’s care.

 

There is a spell in purple heath

Too wildly, sadly dear;

The violet has a fragrant breath,

But fragrance will not cheer,

The trees are bare, the sun is cold,

And seldom, seldom seen;

The heavens have lost their zone of gold,

And earth her robe of green.

 

 

And ice upon the glancing stream

Has cast its sombre shade;

And distant hills and valleys seem

In frozen mist arrayed.

The Bluebell cannot charm me now,

The heath has lost its bloom;

The violets in the glen below,

They yield no sweet perfume.

 

But, though I mourn the sweet Bluebell,

‘Tis better far away;

I know how fast my tears would swell

To see it smile to-day.

For, oh! when chill the sunbeams fall

Adown that dreary sky,

And gild yon dank and darkened wall

With transient brilliancy;

 

How do I weep, how do I pine

For the time of flowers to come,

And turn me from that fading shine,

To mourn the fields of home!