Gorse…..in blossom

The Song of The Gorse Fairies

Gorse1“When gorse is out of blossom,”
(Its prickles bare of gold)
“Then kissing’s out of fashion,”
Said country-folk of old.
Now Gorse is in its glory
In May when skies are blue,
But when time is over,
Whatever shall we do?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

O dreary would the world be,
With everyone grown cold –
Forlorn as prickly bushes
Without their fairy gold!
But this will never happen:
At every time of year
You’ll find one bit of blossom –
A kiss from someone dear!


By Cicely Mary Barker

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