Poem By Elizabeth Atkinson
First I saw them through the trees
And knew that I should bend my knees
At such a sight, before unseen,
Of bells a'dancing near the stream,
Stroked with love by the morning dew,
In a copse of silvery blue.
I shall take them home with me,
Vivid in my memory,
Like an early morning dream,
Those dancing bluebells near the stream.
The Clocktower Greengrocer If you're wary of sub-standard greengroceries
Be assured that John will not serve you with these,
For ev'rything's fresh as the dew of the morn
That he sees, when he travels each weekday at dawn,
On his mission to choose from the best on view,
When he stands at the head of the market queue.