A BLUEBELL WOOD IN ENGLAND. YES, THEY STILL EXIST!
In my previous post, I was being tongue in cheek when I wrote, "Oh to be in Bismarck, now that spring is here." It is a takeoff on Robert Browning's famous poem. Spring in Bismarck will never, never, ever equal spring in England (although I have never been there, I have read and dreamed about spring in England.)
HOME THOUGHTS FROM ABROAD
Robert Barrett Browning
Oh to be in England,
Now that April's there,
And whoever wakes in England,
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England - now!
And after April, when May follows,
And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!
Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge,
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover,
Blossoms and dewdrops - at the bent spray's edge -
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never could recapture
The first fine careless rapture!
And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
All will be gay when the noontide wakes anew
The buttercups, the little children's dower -
Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!
Oh to be in England, now that April's here;
We'll go down the local pub,
and get pissed on English beer.
And send our sons to boys' schools,
so that they can turn out queer!
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