The Idle Flowers by Robert Bridges

The following poem lists many of the wild flowers you would have found in the countryside at the beginning of the 20th century when Robert Bridges was writing. Well I've either grown or found most of them, tucked away in places the fertilisers and weed killers can't get at. Sometimes I have mourned their loss, the field pansies by the hedgerow that used to be on the way to West Kennet Longbarrow, the dainty palest blue hare-bells on the racecourse at Lansdown. But in other places they thrive banks of sweet smelling ladies bedstraw up at Old Sodbury Hillfort or crowning the Stoney Littleton Longbarrow. Two seem to have escaped me - Pale Chlora and Sinjunwort; starwort must be stitchwort; and today in the hedgerow as we collected holly I found the coral pink of the spindle tree fruit, and some not mentioned, the vetches for a start, and yellow rattle which can be quite striking.

I have sown upon the fields

Eyebright and Pimpernel,

And pansy and poppy seed

Ripen'd and scatter'd well.

And Silver lady-smock

The meads with light to fill,

Cowslips and buttercup,

Daisy and daffodil;

King-cup and fleur-de-lys

Upon the marsh to meet

With Comfrey, watermint,

Loosestrife and meadowsweet;

And all along the stream

My care hath not forgot

Crowfoot's white galaxy

And Love's forget-me-not;

And where high grasses wave

Shall great moon-daisies blink,

With rattle and sorrel sharp

And Robin's ragged pink.

Thick on the woodland floor,

Gay company shall be,

Primrose and hyacinth

And frail anemone.

Perennial strawberry-bloom,

Woodsorrel's pencilled veil,

Dishevel'd Willow-weed

And Orchis purple and pale,

Bugle, that blushes blue,

And woodruff's snowy gem,

Proud foxglove's finger-bells

And spurge with milky stem.

High on the downs so bare,

Where thou dost love to climb,

Pink thrift and Milkwort are,

Lotus and scented Thyme;

And in the shady lanes

Bold-arum's hood of green,

Herb robert, violet,

Starwort and celandine;

And by the dusty road

Bedstraw and mullien tall,

With red valerian

And toadflax on the wall,

Yarrow and chicory,

That hath for hue no like,

Silene and mallow mild

And agrimony'd spike,

Blue-eyed veronicas

And gray faced scabious

And downy silverweed

And striped convolvus;

Harebell shall haunt the banks,

And thro the hedgerow peer

With wind and snapdragon

And nightshade's flower of fear.

And where men never sow,

Have I my thistles set,

Ragwort and stiff wormwood

And straggling mignonette,

Bugloss and burdock rank

And prickly teasel high,

With umbels yellow and white,

That comes to kexes dry.

Pale chlora shalt thou find,

Sun loving centaury

Cranesbill and sinjunwort,

Cinquefoil and betony;

Shock-headed dandelion,

That drank the fire of the sun;

Hawkweed and marigold,

Cornflower and campion

Let oak and ash grow strong,

Let beech her branches spread;

Let grass and barley throng

And waving wheat for bread;

Be share and sickle bright

To labour atall hours;

For thee and thy delight

I have made the idle flowers.

But now 'tis Winter, child,

And bitter north winds blow,

The ways are wet and wild,

The land is laid in snow.

The fruit of the spindle tree

An Essex Lane