When I wander among the swathes of Bluebells
I am minded of a nascent variety
creeping in amongst our beloved ones,
Spanish shifts of hue
in the Weald of traditional Kent.
I swear some sad maid
riding on a basket bicycle
scattering new seed
how unpatriotic !
Apr 17, 2012
Apr 17, 2012 at 4:08 PM UTC
When I wander among the swathes of Bluebells
I am minded of a nascent variety
creeping in amongst our beloved ones,
Spanish shifts of hue
in the Weald of traditional Kent.
I swear some sad maid
riding on a basket bicycle
scattering new seed
how unpatriotic !
Request permission to use this poem