by William Allingham
Pluck not the wayside flower,
It is the traveller’s dower;
A thousand passers-by
Its beauties may espy,
May win a touch of blessing
From Nature’s mild caressing.
The sad of heart perceives
A violet under leaves
Like sonic fresh-budding hope;
The primrose on the slope
A spot of sunshine dwells,
And cheerful message tells
Of kind renewing power;
The nodding bluebell’s dye
Is drawn from happy sky.
Then spare the wayside flower!
It is the traveller’s dower.
Yellow flowers are so delightful. I also enjoyed the poem and agree please spare the wayside flower.
Yellow flowers always remind me of the sun
are you psychic?
I’ve just finished a photo/poetry post to send to Mr.Higham for his blog….
It must be that synchronicity again
I look forward to seeing your post
Makes a pleasant diversion from the scenes on tv Cherie!
It certainly does, the violence is getting a bit to close to home now…
Beautiful photo and poem. So refreshing!
Alas! No flowers to admire and to spare on some city streets at the moment. As Jams implies….
I am glad you found it so
Mr C got sent home from work in Birmingham at lunch time. More violence was expected at 3pm and the shop underneath office was one of the suspected targets. They were told to leave immediately…
Great warning, great advice.
But did you like the photo?
Most certainly. You’re a master craftsman.
That comment very much reminds me of the board game Pillars of the Earth where master craftsmen build a Cathedral. And this is a picture of an Abbey