He Was the Poet Davies William H
He wrote of little puffs
of white clouds as sheep,
created mental pictures
of little “Bo Peep.”
He’d lived the difference
betwixt land and sea,
acclaimed the concept
of the incessant busy bee.
He strolled within the wooded lanes
of “Leisure” Disclosed
“Tottering Knees” In living bliss.
“Velvet Bums” Reduced to this?
Golden wheat in waves of
splendour, hearts that flow
in streets of haste!
Vixen breeze with implicit
agenda, children in darkest
slums abate!
Made time to turn
at “Beauty’s Glance”
Then watched her feet
“How he made them dance.”
He was the poet “Davies”
At home within the cloud
wrote his own epitaph
to us, a hereafter crowd!
© Harry J Horsman 1998
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