The BlueBell Wood , Felix Dennis 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...
