William Henry Davies - poems C - R ( modified: 2010-08-27 02:52:03   /   stats: 279   /   author: wiko   /   download )

William Henry Davies   
(1871 - 1940 / Wales)   
 
1. Charms 
   
She walks as lightly as the fly 
Skates on the water in July. 
 
To hear her moving petticoat 
For me is music's highest note. 
 
Stones are not heard, when her feet pass, 
No more than tumps of moss or grass. 
 
When she sits still, she's like the flower 
To be a butterfly next hour. 
 
The brook laughs not more sweet, when he 
Trips over pebbles suddenly. 
My Love, like him, can whisper low -- 
When he comes where green cresses grow. 
 
She rises like the lark, that hour 
He goes halfway to meet a shower. 
 
A fresher drink is in her looks 
Than Nature gives me, or old books. 
 
When I in my Love's shadow sit, 
I do not miss the sun one bit. 
 
When she is near, my arms can hold 
All that's worth having in this world. 
 
And when I know not where she is, 
Nothing can come but comes amiss. 
 
2. Come, Let Us Find 
   
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 in your soft breast. 
 
'Tis strange how men find time to hate, 
When life is all too short for love; 
But we, away from our own kind, 
A different life can live and prove. 
And early on a summer's morn, 
As I go walking out with you, 
We'll help the sun with our warm breath 
To clear away the dew, 
My love, 
To clear away the morning dew. 
 
3. Days Too Short 
   
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 seems a broken rimmed moon-- 
When such things are, this world too soon, 
For me, doth wear the veil of night. 
 
4. 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 eat, and sheep 
Stand to their necks in grass so deep; 
While birds do sing with all their might, 
As though they felt the earth in flight. 
This is the hour I dreamed of, when 
I sat surrounded by poor men; 
And thought of how the Arab sat 
Alone at evening, gazing at 
The stars that bubbled in clear skies; 
 
And of young dreamers, when their eyes 
Enjoyed methought a precious boon 
In the adventures of the Moon 
Whose light, behind the Clouds' dark bars, 
Searched for her stolen flocks of stars. 
When I, hemmed in by wrecks of men, 
Thought of some lonely cottage then 
Full of sweet books; and miles of sea, 
With passing ships, in front of me; 
And having, on the other hand, 
A flowery, green, bird-singing land 
 
5. In the Country 
   
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 in almost every place; 
Cursed with a hand that's empty, when 
The heart is full to help all men. 
 
Can I admire the statue great, 
When living men starve at its feet! 
Can I admire the park's green tree, 
A roof for homeless misery!   
 
6. Joy and Pleasure 
   
Now, joy is born of parents poor, 
And pleasure of our richer kind; 
Though pleasure's free, she cannot sing 
As sweet a song as joy confined. 
 
Pleasure's a Moth, that sleeps by day 
And dances by false glare at night; 
But Joy's a Butterfly, that loves 
To spread its wings in Nature's light. 
 
Joy's like a Bee that gently sucks 
Away on blossoms its sweet hour; 
But pleasure's like a greedy Wasp, 
That plums and cherries would devour. 
 
Joy's like a Lark that lives alone, 
Whose ties are very strong, though few; 
But Pleasure like a Cuckoo roams, 
Makes much acquaintance, no friends true. 
 
Joy from her heart doth sing at home, 
With little care if others hear; 
But pleasure then is cold and dumb, 
And sings and laughs with strangers near. 
 
7. Laughing Rose 
   
If I were gusty April now, 
How I would blow at laughing Rose; 
I'd make her ribbons slip their knots, 
And all her hair come loose. 
 
If I were merry April now, 
How I would pelt her cheeks with showers; 
I'd make carnations, rich and warm, 
Of her vermillion flowers. 
 
Since she will laugh in April's face 
No matter how he rains or blows -- 
Then O that I wild April were, 
To play with laughing Rose. 
 
8. Leisure 
   
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 is if, full of care, 
We have no time to stand and stare. 
 
9. Money 
 
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 poor men’s hearts are ever light; 
And how their wives do hum like bees 
About their work from morn till night. 
So, when I hear these poor ones laugh, 
And see the rich ones coldly frown— 
Poor men, think I, need not go up 
So much as rich men should come down. 
When I had money, money, O! 
My many friends proved all untrue; 
But now I have no money, O! 
My friends are real, though very few. 
 
10. Nell Barnes 
 
They lived apart for three long years, 
Bill Barnes and Nell his wife; 
He took his joy from other girls, 
She led a wicked life. 
 
Yet ofttimes she would pass his shop, 
With some strange man awhile; 
And, looking, meet her husband's frown 
With her malicious smile. 
 
Until one day, when passing there, 
She saw her man had gone; 
And when she saw the empty shop, 
She fell down with a moan. 
 
And when she heard that he had gone 
Five thousand miles away; 
And that she's see his face no more, 
She sickened from that day. 
 
To see his face was health and life, 
And when it was denied, 
She could not eat, and broke her heart -- 
It was for love she died. 
 
11. No Master 
   
Indeed this is the sweet life! my hand 
Is under no proud man's command; 
There is no voice to break my rest 
Before a bird has left its nest; 
There is no man to change my mood, 
When I go nutting in the wood; 
No man to pluck my sleeve and say -- 
I want thy labour for this day; 
No man to keep me out of sight, 
When that dear Sun is shining bright. 
None but my friends shall have command 
Upon my time, my heart and hand; 
I'll rise from sleep to help a friend, 
But let no stranger orders send, 
Or hear my curses fast and thick, 
Which in his purse-proud throat would stick 
Like burrs. If I cannot be free 
To do such work as pleases me, 
Near woodland pools and under trees, 
You'll get no work at all, for I 
Would rather live this life and die 
A beggar or a thief, than be 
A working slave with no days free. 
 
12. Rich or Poor 
   
With thy true love I have more wealth 
Than Charon's piled-up bank doth hold; 
Where he makes kings lay down their crowns 
And life-long misers leave their gold. 
 
Without thy love I've no more wealth 
Than seen upon that other shore; 
That cold, bare bank he rows them to - 
Those kings and misers made so poor.