Old Shellover

by Walter de la Mare (1873-1956)

“Come!” said Old Shellover.

“What?” says Creep.

“The horny old Gardener’s fast asleep;

The fat cock Thrush

To his nest has gone,

And the dew shines bright

In the rising Moon;

Old Sallie Worm from her hole doth peep;

Come!” said Old Shellover

“Ay!” said Creep.

Bowsie Awakes

Bowsie: (yawns)

Boddington: Ahh I see you have woken my friend.

Bowsie: Yes, I have. How’s bluebell?

Boddington: Fine, fine.

(Bluebell appears)

Bluebell: Oh hello Bowsie. I thought you were awake!!!!!!!!!!!

Bowsie is Awake!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Welcome Back Bowsie

Written by Ellie

A Child’s Poem

by Robert Bridges (1844-1930)

Look! Look! The spring is come :

O feel the gentle air,

That wanders thro’ the boughs to burst

The thick buds everywhere !

The birds are glad to see

The high unclouded sun :

Winter is fled away, they sing,

The gay time is begun.

Adown the meadows green

Let us go dance and play,

And look for violets in the lane,

And ramble far away

To gather primroses,

That in the woodland grow,

And hunt for oxslips, or if yet

The blades of blue bells show :

There the old woodman gruff

Hath half the coppice cut,

And weaves the hurdles all day long

Beside his willow hut.

We’ll steal on him, and then

Startle him, all with glee

Singing our song of winter fled

And summer soon to be.

Whoopee!! I'm awake!!!

Hi Everybody!

I'm awake. It's a little early for me but it was warmer last week.

Today it's freezing.

Perhaps you saw me Saturday? I was out walking in the Wet Wood near Boys Grave.

It was VERY WET. I nearly fell into a puddle a couple of times.

I had a cup of tea with Bonnington and Boddington yesterday. They said they have enjoyed looking after my blog, but they got a bit tired towards the end!

Well I hope I can stay awak, because Im looking forward to som new adventures!

Ciao

Bowsie

Alms in Autumn

by Rose Fyleman (1877-1957)

Spindle-wood, spindle-wood, will you lend me, pray,
A little flaming lantern to light me on my way?
The fairy folk have vanished from the meadow and the glen,
And I would fain go seeking till I find them once again;
Lend me now a lantern that I may bear a light
To show the hidden pathway in the darkness of the night.

Ash tree, ash tree, throw me, if you please,
Throw me down a slender bunch of russet-gold keys;
I fear the gates of fairyland may all be shut fast;
Give me of your magic keys that I may get past;
I’ll tie them to my girdle, that as I go along
My heart may find a comfort in their tiny tinkling song.

Holy bush, holly bush, help me in my task,
A pocket full of berries is all the alms I ask;
A pocket full of berries to thread in glowing strands
(I would not go a-visiting with nothing in my hands);
So fine will be the rosy chains, so gay, so glossy bright,
They’ll set the realms of fairyland a-dancing with delight.