Click on the title of the poem to hear the words while you look at the pictures
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.
Poem Published in the following books: Tales from The Woods
This the beautiful bluebell wood near my cottage. Yesterday morning, Larry and I went for a walk there enjoying the birdsong and the lovely scent of the bluebells. Come share with me our walk…