Blue Bells.
By John Hartley
Bonny little Blue-bells
Mid young brackens green,
'Neath the hedgerows peeping
Modestly between;
Telling us that Summer
Is not far away,
When your beauties blend with
Blossoms of the May.
Sturdy, tangled hawthorns,
Fleck'd with white or red,
Whilst their nutty incense,
All around is shed.
Bonny drooping Blue-bells,
Happy you must be
With your beauties sheltered
'Neath such fragrant tree.
You need fear no rival, -
Other blossoms blown,
With their varied beauties
But enhance your own.
Steals the soft wind gently,
'Round th' enchanted spot,
Sets your bells a-ringing
Though we hear them not.
Idle Fancy wanders
As you shake and swing,
Our hearts shape the message
We would have you bring.
Dreams of happy Springtimes
We hope yet to share;
Vague, but pleasant visions
All to melt in air.
Children's merry voices
Break your witching spells,
Chubby hands are clasping
Languishing Blue-bells.
Gay and happy children
Hop and skip along,
With their ringing laughter,
Sweet as skylark's song.
Slowly soon I follow
Through the rustic lane,
But the sight that greets me
Gives me pang of pain.
Strewed upon the pathway,
Fairy Blue-bells lie,
Trampled, crushed and wilted,
Cast away to die.
Yet they lived not vainly
Though their life was brief,
Shedding gleams of gladness
O'er a world of grief.
And they taught a lesson, -
Rightly understood;
By their mute endeavour
Striving to do good.