Tag Archive | #Flowers

#FolkloreThursday 05 Nightingale & The Rose

Today’s theme for #FolkloreThursday is Birds and my favourite is the tale of how the Nightingale could not sing until he fell in love with the Rose. (Click the image to enlarge)

180322 Nightingale & the Rose 02

The Nightingale & the Rose (An Arabic Legend)

It is told that long ago, the Nightingale could not sing, he simply chirped and squawked. Then one day, he saw a beautiful white rose with whom he fell instantly in love.

From that day forth he was inspired to sing and it is believed that the flower would only open from her bud when she heard the Nightingale ‘s song.

The pair were so in love that one day the Nightingale became so enamoured he grasped the white rose to his breast. He held her so tightly that a thorn pierced his heart. His blood coloured the rose, turning her white petals red , and so she would stay  for  the rest of her days.


My version of this little tale features in ‘Rainbows & Roses ~ Poetry & Prose’ Rose English (click the image to enlarge)

180321 R & R 02.png

Thank you for visiting. Happy Reading.



#WorldPoetryDay ‘Lost Love in Spring’

170320 Lost Love Spring small(click the image to enlarge)

World Poetry Day

A celebration of poetry around the world first introduced by the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO), in 1999. Held on March 21st each year.

‘Lost Love in Spring’ by Rose English

I was overwhelmed when my little short story ‘Lost Love in Spring’ was nominated for a Summer Indie Book Awards in 2017. I do not even know who put the book forward but I am over the moon. So whoever you are Thank You. As today is World Poetry Day and Spring is now officially here, I want to share some of the teasers from my book ‘Lost Love in Spring’.

The story is only short but the book includes an A~Z of Herbal Remedies and for each plant featured there is a small poem to accompany it. Many taken from an old poetry book published in 1800

So here is the image that shows the opening line of the story. Click any image to enlarge it (note it opens in a new window)

08 Lost Love


‘…And many a weary heart shall sing
The Snowdrop bringeth Hope and Spring.’

(From the book Poetry of the Flowers by Mrs CM Kirtland 1800)

Hope is all Emmeline has.

Under rolling storm clouds and raging thunder, the Gods unleash their wrath upon the earth, and in the chaos of the countryside awash with rivulets, Alfie Beeson is felled by some unseen force. With a desperate burst of strength, Emmeline drags her unconscious husband back to their cottage.

Throughout the winter she ministers to his needs, following her Grandmother Aspasia’s recipes collected over the years in her delicately penned ‘Home Remedies’. Alfie appears to be on the mend when the gentle, shivering snowdrops begin to raise their dainty heads above the snow, bringing hope. However, as the little flowers creep from the forest up to the cottage, Alfie takes a turn for the worse.

By the time the blooms are close enough to tap upon the door, she has lost her love. Grieving and bereft, Emmeline tries to cope without her soulmate. Her broken heart causes even her gentle artwork to suffer. Paintings are left unfinished in the parlour.

With the arrival of The Anniversary comes a surprise visitor. Will this visitor rekindle the light in Emmeline’s delicate brown eyes?

Can the hole in her heart ever be healed?

07 Lost Love

Herbal Remedies Research

This heartfelt short story now includes a sample of  Aspasia Cherry’s A~Z of Herbal Remedies along with poetry, a few myths and a little magic about the local flora that would have been found in and around Emmeline’s cottage.

Reading and research are what I love to do most of all, and I was swept away on a cloud of delicate plants and flora that were used for healing. In the story Emmeline uses an old tome that her grandmother Aspasia Cherry penned over the years. I imagine the cover to have been like the one below.

Grandma Cherrys Home Remedies 2

In the A~Z the layout begins with the common name and the scientific name along with its meaning. There follows a poem about the plant then its ancient and modern use. For some plants I have also added a short myth of how the plant may have derived its name. My example here is the Dandelion.

06 Lost Love FB

In some of my earlier blog posts I have more examples of plants used in the book. You can search using poetry or floral poetry. Back in May I did a post on Hawthorn click HERE to check it out.

If you are interested in finding out more, or want to take a look inside on amazon. Click the image below.

ebook & print Lost Love

Thank You for visiting & Happy Reading



Floral Poetry ‘Forget~Me~Not’

There is an old legend that tells the sad tale of how the ‘Forget~Me~Not’ gained its name. The story is of a lady  who one evening whilst strolling beside the river Danube with her gallant knight Rondolf spotted a pretty blue flower. It’s beauty stopped her in her tracks and Rondolf could not resist reaching out to collect it for her.

Unfortunately he slips on the muddy bank, falling into the water. He manages to throw the flower to his fair maid shouting “Forget-me-not.” Sadly all she can do is clutch the flower to her breast as she watches her beloved dragged beneath the waves by his heavy armour and carried away never to be seen again.

The story is immortalised in a wonderful piece of floral poetry by Miss Pickergill which is featured in ‘The Poetry of the Flowers’ by Mrs C.N. Kirtland 1800

Forget Me Not

The Bride of the Danube (Forget-Me-Not)

By Miss Pickersgill

(Featured in Mrs Kirtlands ‘Poetry of Flowers’)


“See how yon glittering wave in sportive play

Washes the bank, and steals the flowers away.

And must they thus in bloom and beauty die.

Without the passing tribute of a sigh?”


“No, Bertha, those young flowerets there

Shall form a braid for thy sunny hair;

I yet will save one, if but one

Soft smile reward me when ’tis done.”

He said, and plunged into the stream


His only light was the moon’s pale beam.

” Stay! stay! “she cried—but he had caught

The drooping flowers, and breathless sought

To place the treasures at the feet

Of her from whom e’en death were sweet.


With outstretched arms upon the shore she stood,

With tearful eye she gazed upon the flood.

Whose swelling tide now seemed as if ‘twould sever

Her faithful lover from her arms forever.

Still through the surge he panting strove to gain

The welcome strand—but, ah! he strove in vain !


Yet once the false stream bore him to the spot

Where stood his bride in muteness of despair:

And scarcely had he said, “ Forget me not !”

And flung the dearly ransomed flowerets there,

When the dark wave closed o’er him, and no more

Was seen young Rodolph on the Danube’s shore.


Aghast she stood; she saw the tranquil stream

Pass o’er him—could it be a fleeting dream?

Ah, no! the last fond words, “ Forget me not !”

Told it was all a sad reality.

With frantic grasp the dripping flowers she prest.

Too dearly purchased, to her aching breast.


Alas! her tears, her sorrows now were vain.

For him she loved she ne’er shall see again!

Is this then a bridal, where, sad in her bower.

The maid weeps alone at the nuptial hour;

Where hushed is the harp, and silent the lute

Ah! why should their thrilling strains be mute?

And where is young Rodolph? where stays the bridegroom?

Go, ask the dark waters, for there is his tomb.


Often at eve when maidens rove

Beside the Danube’s wave,

They tell the tale of hapless love,

And show young Rodolph’s grave;

And cull the flowers from that sweet spot.

Still calling them ” Forget-me-not.”


Floral Poetry ‘The Crocus’

crocus flower-1800825_640


By Mary Patterson

 (From Mrs Kirtland’s Poetry of Flowers 1800)


Lowly, sprightly little flower !

Herald of a brighter bloom,

Bursting in a sunny hour

From thy winter tomb.


Hues you bring, bright, gay, and tender,

As if never to decay;

Fleeting in their varied splendor-

Soon, alas ! it fades away.


Thus the hopes I long had cherished

Thus the friends I long had known.

One by one, like you, have perished.

Blighted—I must fade alone.


Happy Reading


Floral Poetry ‘Buttercups’


Images courtesy of Pixabay

Buttercups by Eliza Cook

From ‘The Poetry of Flowers’ by Mrs Kirtland 1800

‘Tis sweet to love in childhood, when the souls that we bequeath
When we feed the gentle robin, and caress the leaping hound,

And linger latest on the spot where buttercups are found:
When we seek the bee and ladybird with laughter, shout, and song,
And think the day for wooing them can never be too long.
Oh ! ’tis sweet to love in childhood, and though stirred by meanest things.
The music that the heart yields then will never leave its stings.


‘Tis sweet to love in after years the dear one by our side;
To dote with all the mingled joys of passion, hope, and pride;
To think the chain around our breast will hold still warm and fast,
And grieve to know that death must come to break the link at last.
But when the rainbow span of bliss is waning, hue by hue;
When eyes forget their kindly beams, and lips become less true;
When stricken hearts are pining on through many a lonely hour,
Who would not sigh “’tis safer far to love the bird and flower?”


‘Tis sweet to love in ripened age the trumpet blast of Fame,
To pant to live on Glory’s scroll, though blood may trace the name;
‘Tis sweet to love the heap of gold, and hug it to our breast,—
To trust it as the guiding star and anchor of our rest.
But such devotion will not serve—however strong the zeal —
To overtlirow the altar where our childhood loved to kneel.
Some bitter moment shall o’ercast the sun of wealth and power.
And then proud man would fain go back to worship bird and flower.


‘Do you like butter?’

Everyone knows of the buttercup game children, and often lovers play to find out if their friend or partners like butter. The bright yellow petals will shine upon the skin when the pretty flower is held beneath the chin. This little folk legend has been passed down through many generations, the research I have done on flowers has not helped me find the origin.

However, I did find some scientific facts that Cambridge physicists in the UK have discovered that the buttercup is able to shine upon the skin and other surfaces because the cells of the petals contain carotenoids which reflect yellow light. Unlike many other wildflowers the reflection of the yellow light is enhanced because the buttercup has a second layer of cells separated by a layer of air which makes it shine all the more brighter. I still love the game and it often brings happy memories.



One thing I did not know was that the buttercup actually contains toxins, the poisonous substance is called ranunculin. It is found in the flower, the leaves and the seeds especially if crushed.

Sensitive folk may have a reaction to the pretty flower causing their skin to become blistered and irritated. Animals as well as humans will experience a variety of other symptoms, such as excessive salivation, nausea, difficulty breathing, convulsions and sometimes paralysis if the buttercup is eaten. So you have been warned.


I hope you enjoy this feature on my blog I would love to read your thoughts. Poems similar to this are featured in my book ‘Lost Love in Spring’

Happy Reading


Floral Poetry & Prose ‘The Snowdrop’

Floral Poetry An Introduction

Whilst researching for several of my books, I came across some beautiful poems, several I used within the books themselves. I thought it would be nice to share some of those  findings here and perhaps in a regular blog feature ‘Floral Poetry & Prose’. The majority of the poems are from a book I discovered that was printed in 1800 ‘The Poetry of Flowers’ by Mrs Kirtland.


Images courtesy of Pixabay

The Snowdrop

As Hope, with bowed head, silent stood,
And on her golden anchor leant,
Watching below the angry flood.
While Winter, ‘mid the dreariment
Half-buried in the drifted snow.
Lay sleeping on the frozen ground,
Not heeding how the wind did blow.
Bitter and bleak on all around :
She gazed on Spring, who at her feet
Was looking at the snow and sleet.


Spring sighed, and through the driving gale
Her warm breath caught the falling snow.
And from the flakes a flower as pale
Did into spotless whiteness blow;
Hope, smiling, saw the blossom fall.
And watched its root strike in the earth,—
“I will that flower the Snowdrop call,”
Said Hope, “in memory of its birth;
And through all ages it shall be
In reverence held, for love of me.”


“And ever from my hidden bowers,”
Said Spring, “it first of all shall go,
And be the herald of the flowers.
To warn away the sheeted snow :
Its mission done, then by thy side
All summer long it shall remain.
While other flowers I scatter wide
O’er every hill, and wood, and plain.
This shall return, and ever be
A sweet companion, Hope, for thee.”


Hope stooped and kissed her sister Spring,
And said, “For hours when thou art gone,
I’m left alone without a thing
That I can fix my heart upon,
‘Twill cheer me many a lonely hour.
And in the future I shall see
Those who would sink, raised by that flower.
They’ll look on it, then think of thee ;
And many a weary heart shall sing.
The Snowdrop bringeth Hope and Spring.


‘The Snowdrop’ is one of my most favourite poems, I have been unable to find out the poet, as in the book there is no name listed against it. However, I do know that it is a story from folklore of two sisters Hope & Spring. The first being sad that winter is upon them and the second to cheer up her sister, breaths life into a tiny snowflake creating the snowdrop that brings joy to the other that lasts well into summer time.

I hope you enjoy this new feature on my blog I would love to read your thoughts. Poems similar to this are featured in my book ‘Lost Love in Spring’

Happy Reading


May Day ‘A-Maying We Will Go’

Title Go A Maying

There are several old customs related to May Day one is the country custom of ‘Going A-Maying’ a time when young couples went off into the neighbouring woods to collect flowers and blossoms (often from the Hawthorn) to bring back to their village, to decorate the doors and windows of the villagers homes. Many poets have penned remarkable poems but this one is a little more obscure featured in Mrs C.M. Kirtland’s ‘Poetry of the Flowers’ 1800.

‘Going A-Maying’ by John Ingram

Oh, we will go a-Maying, love,
A-Maying we will go.
Beneath the branches swaying, love,
With weight of scented snow.
Laburnum’s golden tresses, love.
Float in the perfumed air;
Which heedless their caresses, love.
Seeks violets in their lair;
And with their scents a-playing, love.
It gambols to and fro,—
Where we will go a-Maying, love,
Where we will Maying go.

The bees are busy humming, love,
Amid the opening blooms.
Foretelling Summer’s coming, love,
Farewell to wintry glooms.
The primrose pale, from crinkly sheen.
Up from the ground now speeds;
And cowslips slim, ‘mid leafy green,
Else in the unknown meads.
And buttercups are weighing, love,
The gold they soon -must strow,—
Where we will go a-Maying, love,
‘Where we will Maying go.

The hawthorn’s bloom is falling, love,
We must no longer wait;
Each bird is blithely calling, love.
Unto his chosen mate;
Each bud unblown is swelling, love.
Green grow the vernal fields;
Each insect leaves its dwelling, love,
And all to Summer yields:
The mowers are out haying, love,
Woodbine is in full blow,—
Where we will go a-Maying, love,
Where we will Maying go.

(Featured in Mrs Kirtland Poetry of Flowers 1800)

I hope you enjoyed this poem especially chosen for May Day

Visit the blog post of DM Denton to learn more about May Day Traditions

Click the image below

edwin-austin-abbey-may-day-morning‘May Day Morning’ by Edwin Austin Abbey (1852 – 1911)

Happy Reading

Pink Rose