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Best Famous John Davidson Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous John Davidson poems. This is a select list of the best famous John Davidson poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous John Davidson poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of John Davidson poems.

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by John Davidson | |

Snow

 The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was 
Spawning snow and pink rose against it
Soundlessly collateral and incompatible: 
World is suddener than we fancy it.
World is crazier and more of it than we think, Incorrigibly plural.
I peel and portion A tangerine and spit the pips and feel The drunkenness of things being various.
And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes -- On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of one's hands-- There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.


by John Davidson | |

Snow

 In the gloom of whiteness, 
In the great silence of snow, 
A child was sighing 
And bitterly saying: "Oh, 
They have killed a white bird up there on her nest, 
The down is fluttering from her breast!" 
And still it fell through that dusky brightness 
On the child crying for the bird of the snow.


by John Davidson | |

Snow

 No breath of wind,
No gleam of sun – 
Still the white snow
Whirls softly down
Twig and bough
And blade and thorn
All in an icy
Quiet, forlorn.
Whispering, rustling, Through the air On still and stone, Roof, - everywhere, It heaps its powdery Crystal flakes, Of every tree A mountain makes; ‘Til pale and faint At shut of day Stoops from the West One wint’ry ray, And, feathered in fire Where ghosts the moon, A robin shrills His lonely tune.


by John Davidson | |

Battle

 The war of words is done;
The red-lipped cannon speak;
The battle has begun.
The web your speeches spun Tears and blood shall streak; The war of words is done.
Smoke enshrouds the sun; Earth staggers at the shriek Of battle new begun.
Poltroons and braggarts run: Woe to the poor, the meek! The war of words is done.
"And hope not now to shun The doom that dogs the weak," Thunders every gun; "Victory must be won.
" When the red-lipped cannon speak, The war of words is done, The slaughter has begun.


by John Davidson | |

Imagination

 There is a dish to hold the sea, 
A brazier to contain the sun, 
A compass for the galaxy, 
A voice to wake the dead and done! 

That minister of ministers, 
Imagination, gathers up 
The undiscovered Universe, 
Like jewels in a jasper cup.
Its flame can mingle north and south; Its accent with the thunder strive; The ruddy sentence of its mouth Can make the ancient dead alive.
The mart of power, the fount of will, The form and mould of every star, The source and bound of good and ill, The key of all the things that are, Imagination, new and strange In every age, can turn the year; Can shift the poles and lightly change The mood of men, the world's career.


by John Davidson | |

Snow

 Late December: my father and I
are going to New York, to the circus.
He holds me on his shoulders in the bitter wind: scraps of white paper blow over the railroad ties.
My father liked to stand like this, to hold me so he couldn't see me.
I remember staring straight ahead into the world my father saw; I was learning to absorb its emptiness, the heavy snow not falling, whirling around us.