The BlueBell Wood
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.
First Published in Tales from The Woods
Hello.
I would like to say a very personal and private ‘thank you very much’ to you Felix Dennis.
My Father died 30 July 2011 aged 87 after suffering from Parkinson’s disease for over 20 years. For the humanist funeral I wanted to give a reading which was uplifting and would reflect the happy times we spent together. I sat in a local bookshop reading through their poetry section finding no inspiration at all until I found your ‘Tales from the Woods’ and in particular ‘The Bluebell Wood’. My family has lived for 44 years next to a bluebell wood in Kent. While my Father was still able, we would walk in the wood. Your poem captures perfectly those precious moments we spent together. Thank you very much.
I don’t know how the copyright rules apply to such circumstances so I apologize if I should have asked your permission before giving a reading of your poetry. I did clearly reference it as your work so I hope that’s alright.
Thank you again.
Alison.