William Henry Davies Poems

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 Sweet Chance, that led my steps abroad, 
Beyond the town, where wild flowers grow -- 
A rainbow and a cuckoo, Lord, 
How rich and great the times are now! 
Know, all ye sheep 
And cows, that keep 
On staring that I stand so long 
In grass that's wet from heavy rain -- 
A rainbow and a cuckoo's song 
May...Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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 Good morning, Life--and all 
Things glad and beautiful. 
My pockets nothing hold, 
But he that owns the gold, 
The Sun, is my great friend-- 
His spending has no end. 

Hail to the morning sky, 
Which bright clouds measure high; 
Hail to you birds whose throats 
Would number leaves by notes; 
Hail to you shady bowers, 
And you green field...Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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 No idle gold -- since this fine sun, my friend, 
Is no mean miser, but doth freely spend.

No prescious stones -- since these green mornings show, 
Without a charge, their pearls where'er I go.

No lifeless books -- since birds with their sweet tongues 
Will read aloud to me their happier songs.

No painted scenes -- since clouds can change their...Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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 A week ago I had a fire 
To warm my feet, my hands and face; 
Cold winds, that never make a friend, 
Crept in and out of every place. 

Today the fields are rich in grass, 
And buttercups in thousands grow; 
I'll show the world where I have been-- 
With gold-dust seen on either shoe. 

Till to my garden...Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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 When April scatters charms of primrose gold 
Among the copper leaves in thickets old, 
And singing skylarks from the meadows rise, 
To twinkle like black stars in sunny skies;

When I can hear the small woodpecker ring 
Time on a tree for all the birds that sing; 
And hear the pleasant cuckoo, loud and long -- 
The simple bird that...Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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 Come, let us find a cottage, love, 
That's green for half a mile around; 
To laugh at every grumbling bee, 
Whose sweetest blossom's not yet found. 
Where many a bird shall sing for you, 
And in your garden build its nest: 
They'll sing for you as though their eggs 
Were lying in your breast, 
My love-- 
Were lying warm...Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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 When primroses are out in Spring, 
And small, blue violets come between; 
When merry birds sing on boughs green, 
And rills, as soon as born, must sing; 

When butterflies will make side-leaps, 
As though escaped from Nature's hand 
Ere perfect quite; and bees will stand 
Upon their heads in fragrant deeps; 

When small clouds are so silvery white 
Each...Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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 This life is sweetest; in this wood 
I hear no children cry for food; 
I see no woman, white with care; 
No man, with muscled wasting here.

No doubt it is a selfish thing 
To fly from human suffering; 
No doubt he is a selfish man, 
Who shuns poor creatures, sad and wan.

But 'tis a wretched life to face 
Hunger...Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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 What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's...Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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 When I had money, money, O!
I knew no joy till I went poor;
For many a false man as a friend
Came knocking all day at my door.
Then felt I like a child that holds
A trumpet that he must not blow
Because a man is dead; I dared
Not speak to let this false world know.
Much have I thought of life, and seen
How...Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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 Cold winds can never freeze, nor thunder sour 
The cup of cheer that Beauty draws for me 
Out of those Azure heavens and this green earth -- 
I drink and drink, and thirst the more I see.

To see the dewdrops thrill the blades of grass, 
Makes my whole body shake; for here's my choice 
Of either sun or shade,...Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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  Now shall I walk 
Or shall I ride? 
"Ride", Pleasure said; 
"Walk", Joy replied.

Now what shall I -- 
Stay home or roam? 
"Roam", Pleasure said; 
And Joy -- "stay home."

Now shall I dance, 
Or sit for dreams? 
"Sit," answers Joy; 
"Dance," Pleasure screams.

Which of ye two 
Will kindest be? 
Pleasure laughed sweet, 
But Joy kissed me....Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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 A dear old couple my grandparents were, 
And kind to all dumb things; they saw in Heaven 
The lamb that Jesus petted when a child; 
Their faith was never draped by Doubt: to them 
Death was a rainbow in Eternity, 
That promised everlasting brightness soon. 
An old seafaring man was he; a rough 
Old man, but kind; and hairy,...Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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 Thou dost not fly, thou art not perched, 
The air is all around: 
What is it that can keep thee set, 
From falling to the ground? 
The concentration of thy mind 
Supports thee in the air; 
As thou dost watch the small young birgs, 
With such a deadly care. 

My mind has such a hawk as thou, 
It is...Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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 One night when I went down 
Thames' side, in London Town, 
A heap of rags saw I, 
And sat me down close by. 
That thing could shout and bawl, 
But showed no face at all; 
When any steamer passed 
And blew a loud shrill blast, 
That heap of rags would sit 
And make a sound like it; 
When struck...Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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 It was the Rainbow gave thee birth,
And left thee all her lovely hues;
And, as her mother’s name was Tears,
So runs it in my blood to choose
For haunts the lonely pools, and keep
In company with trees that weep.
Go you and, with such glorious hues,
Live with proud peacocks in green parks;
On lawns as smooth as shining glass,
Let every feather show its...Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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 Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou seemest most charming to my sight;
As I gaze upon thee in the sky so high,
A tear of joy does moisten mine eye. 

Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light,
Thou cheerest the Esquimau in the night;
For thou lettest him see to harpoon the fish,
And with them he makes a dainty dish. 

Beautiful Moon, with thy...Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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 While joy gave clouds the light of stars, 
That beamed wher'er they looked; 
And calves and lambs had tottering knees, 
Excited, while they sucked; 
While every bird enjoyed his song, 
Without one thought of harm or wrong-- 
I turned my head and saw the wind, 
Not far from where I stood, 
Dragging the corn by her golden hair, 
Into...Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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 This night, as I sit here alone,
And brood on what is dead and gone,
The owl that's in this Highgate Wood,
Has found his fellow in my mood;
To every star, as it doth rise -
Oh-o-o! Oh-o-o! he shivering cries.

And, looking at the Moon this night,
There's that dark shadow in her light.
Ah! Life and death, my fairest one,
Thy lover is a skeleton!
"And...Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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 My mind has thunderstorms,
That brood for heavy hours:
Until they rain me words,
My thoughts are drooping flowers
And sulking, silent birds.

Yet come, dark thunderstorms,
And brood your heavy hours;
For when you rain me words,
My thoughts are dancing flowers
And joyful singing birds....Read more of this...

by Davies, William Henry

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