By Christina Rossetti
Hurt no living thing:
Ladybird, nor butterfly,
Nor moth with dusty wing,
Nor cricket chirping cheerily,
Nor grasshopper so light of leap,
Nor dancing gnat, nor beetle fat,
Nor harmless worms that creep.
This is the Blog Of Bowsie the intrepid Forest of Dean Dormouse.
When good King Arthur ruled the land,
He was a goodly king:
He stole three pecks of barley meal,
To make a bag-pudding.
A bag-pudding the king did make,
And stuffed it well with plums;
And in it put great lumps of fat,
As big as my two thumbs.
The king and queen did eat thereof,
And noblemen beside;
And what they could not eat that night,
The queen next morning fried.
Anonymous
Wow! Wasn’t yesterday fun!
It’s about time we had a bit of sun, isn’t it?
I went back to my sock drawer for a couple of weeks, the weather was so miserable.
Yesterday, I was out in the
Down by the ponds the Damselflies and Dragonflies were out and about.
We are so lucky to be so close to the
I'm off to Soudley Ponds again today – see you there!
Ciao!
Bowsie
by Vivienne Corby
One day, just at sunset, we came to a hill,
The three of us, me, little Judith, and Bill,
And we saw such a wonderful sight, we three,
That it seemed like a marvellous dream to me.
For there on the grass, in the shade of the trees,
Were hundreds of fairies who danced in the breeze;
And how their wings shone in the fast sinking sun!
We wanted to kiss them, yes, every one.
And then Billy sneezed, and they all flew away.
But still we are hoping to this very day
That we’ll see them again, on top of the hill,
The three of us, me, little Judith, and Bill.