Blue-bells grew thick in Braughan; There wor foxgloves in the glen. Ay, I mind the childer liltin' An' they whistlin' wid the men. 'Twas rain fell soft in Braughan, By thon far bit fields av green; An' 'twas kindly winds, I'm thinkin', Swept the lonesome wee boreen! There's blue bewhiles in Braughan; Ay, an' pink in Foxglove Glen; But who be the wide-eyed childer, Ay, who be the grey-beard men? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WEAVER'S APPRENTICE by AL-RUSAFI IN PRAISE OF A COUNTRY LIFE by PHILIP AYRES IN A GARDEN by PAULINE B. BARRINGTON AN AUTUMN SONNET by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE COMING OF LOVE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE FLOWERS OF ETERNITY by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |