Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Nightingale Bluebell wood

all night her call
echoes through the bluebell woods -

Photo Bluebell Woods by clumsy and uncoordinated


Phil Hall said...

Hi Dave. I love the pictures on your blog, they set of your poetry beautifully.

Thanks for letting me repost your sermon.

seeking echo said...

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,
She stood in tears amid the alien corn;
The same that ofttimes hath
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

David said...

just amazing Pam

Anonymous said...

Well, that's poets for you. And today? Today, I hear is a day to celebrate all the good things you have brought to us. Thank you Dave.

Anonymous said...

Bluebell woods, they are so rare and lovely. Here the bells are white, they don't shimmer at dusk or float like blue bells do. We went out for a walk, after lunch with friends today, and came across a wild cherry tree full of fruit and a lost lake. With just a little effort life can be mythic!
Hope you have had a day of rest.

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