Bluebells.

Along the wild broken bank and among the stems of the Hawthorn hedge there grew a profusion of bluebells. I never saw bluebells more beautiful. They grew tall and stately, singly or in groups, and sometimes in such a crowd that they filled the hollow places and deep shadows of the overarching hedge with a sweet blue gloom and tender azure mist among the young bright fern. Here or there a sunbeam found its way through a little window or skylight in the thick leafage overhead and singling out one bluebell amongst the crowd tipped the rich and heavily hanging cluster of bells with a brilliant azure gleam and blue glory, crowning the flower a queen among her ladies and handmaidens who stood around in the background and green shade.
Francis Kilvert 1840-1879