The Churchyards poem

From Rustic Rhapsody by Wendy AF Martyn

I know a churchyard wilderness
Where wild flowers grow,
There daisies, cowslips, campions
And fragile harebells blow.
And underneath damp tombstones,
Fat toads with bulging eyes,
Watch chirpy little grasshoppers
And hovering dragonflies.

On lush green stinging nettle leaves
Large caterpillars crawl,
And tiny wrens are nesting
In a crevice in the wall.
Sweet nettles, pink and white, provide
Rich nectar for the bees,
And scarlet coated ladybirds
Hunt aphids in the trees.

Like living jewels the goldfinches
Bright dandelions devour,
And woolly sheep graze lazily
Upon the clover flower.
Shy blooms and birds and insects
And butterflies are rife:
Oh there amid the sleeping dead,
There is abundant Life!

I know another churchyard
Which fills me with despair.
No dandelions, no poppies
No wild roses there,
No bluebells and no buttercups,
No scarlet pimpernel;
For all God's lovely little gems,
The mower sounds the knell.

The undergrowth is sheared so close
It bears no flowers or seeds,
For the wild plants which dare to grow
Are designated weeds.
And all around the old stone church
In sanctimonious row,
Smug cultivated garden flowers
In sterile neatness grow.

Where are the birds and insects?
Where is the cow parsley?
Where are the rioting growing things
Which burgeoned merrily?
There are no sheep in the graveyard now,
Alas, such days are sped;
Along with the departed souls
God's wildlife is dead!

This poem was sent to Carol Simpson by Tessa Styles, who is working hard to promote nature conservation in Crowan churchyard. If you would like to get involved in churchyard work, or need some advice on it, please contact the Trust.

Projects .... Bat Conservation Bodyline CRAG Dolphin Group Geology Mammal Group Otter Group PARC Seaquest Seasearch Seal Group Water for Wildlife VIC SEARCH . . . . . . . . .