Butterfly poetry collection
Tall and Graceful: Discover Foxglove Poems
A varied collection of poems gathered around this subject, with space for different voices, images, and moods.
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Poems in this collection
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Flowers
Bell’s Charm:
Foxglove blooms with bells so bright,
In the garden, pure delight.
Petals soft in shades of pink,
Foxglove, nature's link.
In your blossoms, beauty's found,
Foxglove, in the garden ground.
Bell's charm in morning's light,
Foxglove, pure and bright.
Flowers
Poison’s Bloom:
Foxglove with your deadly touch,
In your beauty, danger's clutch.
Petals bright yet toxic hold,
Foxglove, stories told.
In your blooms, a warning clear,
Foxglove, beauty's tear.
Poison's bloom in garden's grace,
Foxglove, nature's face.
Flowers
Garden’s Jewel:
Foxglove, in the garden's heart,
In your blooms, nature's art.
Bells that ring in silent cheer,
Foxglove, always near.
In your petals, life's embrace,
Foxglove, nature's grace.
Garden's jewel in morning's hue,
Foxglove, pure and true.
Flowers
Foxglove Frolic
In the garden, foxgloves stand,
Tall and proud, they look so grand.
But when I try to pick a bloom,
They bend and sway, to my doom.
I reach again, they move aside,
These tricky flowers, they just hide.
I laugh and chase them round the bed,
But foxgloves bob and weave instead.
I finally sit, with breath all gone,
These flowers have my energy drawn.
Foxgloves frolic, full of cheer,
In my garden, always near.
Flowers
Dizzy Daisies
Foxgloves in a dancing line,
Their bell-shaped blooms, so divine.
They nod and bow as I walk by,
These flowers seem to wink and sigh.
I tried to capture one in hand,
But foxgloves danced, they took a stand.
They swayed and twisted, out of reach,
A floral game, a lesson to teach.
I joined their dance, I twirled and spun,
Among the blooms, having fun.
Now every day, I join the play,
With foxgloves in their floral ballet.
A garden full of dizzy cheer,
With foxgloves twirling, always near.
Flowers
Foxglove’s Bell
In garden's where the wild things grow,
The foxglove's bells begin to show.
With colors rich and forms so tall,
They grace the earth, a nature's call.
The foxglove, a symbol of the wild,
Stands as nature's child.
In every bloom, a story's spun,
Of life's own touch, of morning sun.
Through spring's first light and summer's cheer,
The foxglove's bells are always near.
A flower of the meadow's call,
The foxglove stands tall.
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