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Best Famous William Henry Davies Poems

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

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by William Henry Davies |

Rich Days

 Welcome to you rich Autumn days, 
Ere comes the cold, leaf-picking wind; 
When golden stocks are seen in fields, 
All standing arm-in-arm entwined; 
And gallons of sweet cider seen 
On trees in apples red and green.
With mellow pears that cheat our teeth, Which melt that tongues may suck them in; With blue-black damsons, yellow plums, Now sweet and soft from stone to skin; And woodnuts rich, to make us go Into the loneliest lanes we know.


by William Henry Davies |

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.


by William Henry Davies |

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.


by William Henry Davies |

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.


by William Henry Davies |

the moon

 when the body of a woman dissolves
within are the three feared faces

the man who dares to trace them comes
to grief - but nothing personal is meant

waves and particles transvest - vulva
breast and womb are sexless doors 

beyond whose suck a sensual light
swings life round its little finger


by William Henry Davies |

Where We Differ

 To think my thoughts are hers, 
Not one of hers is mine; 
She laughs -- while I must sigh; 
She sighs -- while I must whine.
She eats -- while I must fast; She reads -- while I am blind; She sleeps -- while I must wake; Free -- I no freedom find.
To think the world for me Contains but her alone, And that her eyes prefer Some ribbon, scarf, or stone.


by William Henry Davies |

When on a Summers 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 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.


by William Henry Davies |

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.


by William Henry Davies |

The Moon

 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 silvery light, Thou cheerest the fox in the night, And lettest him see to steal the grey goose away Out of the farm-yard from a stack of hay.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light, Thou cheerest the farmer in the night, and makes his heart beat high with delight As he views his crops by the light in the night.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light, Thou cheerest the eagle in the night, And lettest him see to devour his prey And carry it to his nest away.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light, Thou cheerest the mariner in the night As he paces the deck alone, Thinking of his dear friends at home.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light, Thou cheerest the weary traveller in the night; For thou lightest up the wayside around To him when he is homeward bound.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light, Thou cheerest the lovers in the night As they walk through the shady groves alone, Making love to each other before they go home.
Beautiful Moon, with thy silvery light, Thou cheerest the poacher in the night; For thou lettest him see to set his snares To catch the rabbit and the hares.


by William Henry Davies |

The Sleepers

 No map traces the street
Where those two sleepers are.
We have lost track of it.
They lie as if under water In a blue, unchanging light, The French window ajar Curtained with yellow lace.
Through the narrow crack Odors of wet earth rise.
The snail leaves a silver track; Dark thickets hedge the house.
We take a backward look.
Among petals pale as death And leaves steadfast in shape They sleep on, mouth to mouth.
A white mist is going up.
The small green nostrils breathe, And they turn in their sleep.
Ousted from that warm bed We are a dream they dream.
Their eyelids keep up the shade.
No harm can come to them.
We cast our skins and slide Into another time.