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I love the fair lilies and roses so gay, They are rich in their pride and their splendor; But still more do I love to wander away To the meadow so sweet, Where down at my feet, The harebell blooms modest and tender. - Dora Read Goodale, Queen Harebell With drooping bells of clearest blue Thou didst attract my childish view, Almost resembling The azure butterflies that flew Where on the heath thy blossoms grew So lightly trembling. - Reginald Heber, The Harebell Simplest of blossoms! To mine eye Thou bring'st the summer's painted sky; The May-thorn greening in the nook; The minnows sporting in the brook; The bleat of flocks; the breath of flowers; The song of birds amid the bowers; The crystal of the azure seas; The music of the southern breeze; And, over all, the blessed sun, Telling of halcyon days begun. - David Macbeth Moir (known as Delta), The Harebell High in the clefts of the rock 'mid the cedars Hangeth the harebell the waterfall nigh; Blue are its petals, deep-blue tinged with purple, Mystical tintings that mirror the sky. - L.D. Pycohowska, Harebells
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