“I never saw a moor, I never saw the sea; Yet know I how the heather looks, And what a wave must be. I never spoke with God, Nor visited in Heaven; Yet certain am I of the spot, As if a chart were given.”
(cobweb skipper feeding on the heather–Mexican Heather as Scottish Heather cannot tolerate Georgia’s heat / Julie Cook / 2014)
Flowers of the Moorland
Wild flowers of the moorland, ye are very dear to me;
Ye lure my dreaming memory as clover does the bee;
Ye bring back all my childhood loved, when freedom, joy and health
Had never thought of wearing chains to fetter fame and wealth.
Wild blossoms of the common land, brave tenants of the earth,
Your breathings were among the first that helped my spirit’s birth;
For how my busy brain would dream and how my heart would burn,
Where gorse and heather flung their arms above the forest fern.
(English poet 1818-1889)
(cobweb skipper and bumble bee feeding on the heather / Julie Cook / 2014)