All in June
A week ago I had a fire
To warm my feet, my hands and face;
Cold winds, that never make a friend,
Crept in and out of every place.
Today the fields are rich in grass,
And buttercups in thousands grow;
I'll show the world where I have been —
With gold-dust seen on either shoe.
Till to my garden back I come,
Where bumble-bees for hours and hours
Sit on their soft, fat, velvet bums,
To wriggle out of hollow flowers.
~~
W.H. Davies (1871-1940)
from The Soul's Destroyer, and other poems, 1905
[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]
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