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W. H. Davies

W. H. Davies Books

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“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 common leaves that hum all day Without a throat or tongue. And when Time strikes the hour for sleep, Back in my room alone, My heart has many a sweet bird's song - And one that's all my own.”

HeartTwoEyeSpiritSongBornHoursMy OwnSleepRoomsCommonClearSweetMy HeartSummerSingingBirdTongueStrikesThroatCuckoosBlackbirdsThrush
Author:W. H. Davies
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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 glance, And watch her feet, how they can dance. No time to wait till her mouth can Enrich that smile her eyes began. A poor life this if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare.”

IfsLongEyeCareSpiritualNightTurnsStarsWaitingPoorWatchesFeetSkyMouthsWoodsThis LifeStaringGrassStreamsBroadsNutsCowsSheepHer EyesGlancesRelaxationDaylightSquirrelsPoor Life
Book:The True Traveller: A Reader
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“Peace to these little broken leaves, That strew our common ground; That chase their tails, like silly dogs, As they go round and round. For though in winter boughs are bare, Let us not once forget Their summer glory, when these leaves Caught the great Sun in their strong net; And made him, in the lower air, Tremble - no bigger than a star!”

LittlesMadeStrongStarsForgetCommonSunAirTreeDogBrokenSummerGloryBiggerRoundsWinterCaughtSillyTailsCommon Ground
Author:W. H. Davies
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“I cannot see the short, white curls Upon the forehead of an Ox, But what I see them dripping with That poor thing's blood, and hear the ax; When I see calves and lambs, I see Them led to death; I see no bird Or rabbit cross the open field But what a sudden shot is heard; A shout that tells me men aim true, For death or wound, doth chill me through.”

MenWhiteAnimalPoorHeardBloodFieldsBirdShotsCrossesAimWoundsChillRabbitsForeheadsLambsCurlsDrippingCalvesOpen Fields
Author:W. H. Davies
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