William Henry Davies
The Best Friend
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
April's Charms
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
The Child and the Mariner
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
This Night
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
The Kingfisher
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,
The Rain
I hear leaves drinking rain; I hear rich leaves on top Giving the poor beneath Drop after drop; ‘Tis a sweet noise to hear These green leaves drinking near. And when the Sun comes
The Hawk
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 Example
Here’s an example from A Butterfly; That on a rough, hard rock Happy can lie; Friendless and all alone On this unsweetened stone. Now let my bed be hard No care take I; I’ll
Seeking Beauty
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
Sadness and Joy
I pray you, Sadness, leave me soon, In sweet invention thou art poor! Thy sister, Joy can make ten songs While thou art making four. One hour with thee is sweet enough; But when
In May
Yes, I will spend the livelong day With Nature in this month of May; And sit beneath the trees, and share My bread with birds whose homes are there; While cows lie down to
A Plain Life
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
The Dark Hour
And now, when merry winds do blow, And rain makes trees look fresh, An overpowering staleness holds This mortal flesh. Though well I love to feel the rain, And be by winds well blown
When on a Summer's Morn
When on a summer’s morn I wake, And open my two eyes, Out to the clear, born-singing rills My bird-like spirit flies. To hear the Blackbird, Cuckoo, Thrush, Or any bird in song; And
The Sleepers
As I walked down the waterside This silent morning, wet and dark; Before the cocks in farmyards crowed, Before the dogs began to bark; Before the hour of five was struck By old Westminster’s