Garden Poetry: Francis Kilvert's Diary

Francis Kilvert's Diary: May 1876

Bluebells

He wrote this 3 years before his death: 1840-1879. He was only 39. I edited the prose entry and changed the format into stanzas. I hope the things he saw, stayed with him. His ability to see, inspired me. The beauty of a garden is found by simply looking with your soul. To look upon life in this manner is to be alive.

Through the gate of a meadow,

I saw a cherry tree,

snowy with blossoms,

that scented the air.

Along the wild broken bank,

among the stems of the hawthorn hedge,

there grew a profusion of bluebells,

I never saw bluebells more beautiful.

They grew tall and stately,

singularly and in groups,

and sometimes in such a crowd,

that they filled the hallow places,

and deep shadows of the overarching hedge,

with a sweet  blue gloom and tender azure mist,

that floated among the young bright ferns.

Here or there a sunbeam found its way,

through a little window in the thick leafage over head,

singling out one bluebell amongst the crowd,

tipping the rich and heavily hanging clusters of bells,

Tipping it with a brilliant gleam and blue glory,

crowning the flower a queen,

among her ladies and handmaidens,

who stood in the background of green shade.