24 Apr 2016

The Bluebell

A fine and subtle spirit dwells
In every little flower,
Each one its own sweet feeling breathes
With more or less of power.
There is a silent eloquence
In every wild bluebell
That fills my softened heart with bliss
That words could never tell.

Above - the beginning of a poem by Anne Bronte, and below the long awaited Bluebells for my Mother...