At Bluebell Time

 

At Bluebell Time

At bluebell time the light of heaven

Is caught and held in many a glen,

As though some extra grace were given

To gladden hearts of busy men.

 

Where trees begin to cast their shade

With ever-thickening web of leaves

A living carpet, blue is laid

To make a garden fair as Eve’s.

 

Not here the gaudy hues of wealth,

The glaring gems of earthly fame;

Only the love that works by stealth,

And seeks nor recompense nor fame.

 

No gilded halls for potentates…

Can boast the beauty here revealed,

The stones that deck the angels’ gates

Are found in every glen and field