Christmas / W.H. Davies

Christmas

Christmas has come, let's eat and drink —
This is no time to sit and think;
Farewell to study, books and pen,
And welcome to all kinds of men.
Let all men now get rid of care,
And what one has let others share;
Then 'tis the same, no matter which
Of us is poor, or which is rich.
Let each man have enough this day,
Since those that can are glad to pay;
There's nothing now too rich or good
For poor men, not the King's own food.
Now like a singing bird my feet
Touch earth, and I must drink and eat.
Welcome to all men: I'll not care
What any of my fellows wear;
We'll not let cloth divide our souls,
They'll swim stark naked in the bowls.
Welcome, poor beggar: I'll not see
That hand of yours dislodge a flea,—
While you sit at my side and beg,
Or right foot scratching your left leg.
Farewell restraint: we will not now
Measure the ale our brains allow,
But drink as much as we can hold.
We'll count no change when we spend gold;
This is no time to save, but spend,
To give for nothing, not to lend.
Let foes make friends: let them forget
The mischief-making dead that fret
The living with complaint like this —
"He wronged us once, hate him and his."
Christmas has come; let every man
Eat, drink, be merry all he can.
Ale's my best mark, but if port wine
Or whisky's yours — let it be mine;
No matter what lies in the bowls,
We'll make it rich with our own souls.
Farewell to study, books and pen,
And welcome to all kinds of men.

~~
W.H. Davies (1871-1940)
from Foliage: Various poems, 1913 

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

W.H. Davies biography

"Christmas" read for LibriVox.org. Courtesy LibriVox Audiobooks.

All in June / W.H. Davies

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]

"All in June" read by Barte Wolffe. Courtesy Classic Poetry with Lark.

W.H. Davies biography

Autumn / W.H. Davies

Autumn

Autumn grows old: he, like some simple one,
In Summer's castaway is strangely clad;
Such withered things the winds in frolic mad
Shake from his feeble hand and forehead wan.

Autumn is sighing for his early gold,
And in his tremble dropping his remains;
The brook talks more, as one bereft of brains,
Who singeth loud, delirious with the cold.

O now with drowsy June one hour to be!
Scarce waking strength to hear the hum of bees,
Or cattle lowing under shady trees,
Knee deep in waters loitering to the sea.

I would that drowsy June awhile were here,
The amorous South wind carrying all the vale –
Save that white lily true to star as pale,
Whose secret day-dream Phoebus burns to hear.

~~
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]

W.H. Davies biography

Rich Days / W.H. 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.

~~
W.H. Davies (1871-1940)
from The Bird of Paradise, and other poems, 1914

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

W.H. Davies biography

A Midsummer Night's Storm / W.H. Davies

A Midsummer Night's Storm

Night, Lightning, Thunder, Rain.
     I see black Night
Open her lips;
     Her teeth gleam bright,
A moment seen;
     Then comes rich laughter;
And happy tears,
     That follow after,
Fall on the bosoms
Of birds and blossoms.

~~
W.H. Davies (1871-1940)
from The Bird of Paradise, and other poems, 1914

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

W.H. Davies biography

In May / W.H. Davies

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.

~~
W.H. Davies (1871-1940)
from Songs of Joy, and others, 1911 

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

W.H. Davies biography

"In May" read by Richard Mitchley. Courtesy Richard Mitchley - Topic.

When on a Summer's Morn / W.H. Davies

When on a Summer's 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.

~~
W.H. Davies (1871-1940)
from The Bird of Paradise, and other poems, 1914

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

W.H. Davies biography

When Yon Full Moon / W.H. Davies

When Yon Full Moon

When yon full moon's with her white fleet of stars,
   And but one bird makes music in the grove;
When you and I are breathing side by side,
   Where our two bodies make one shadow, love;

Not for her beauty will I praise the moon,

   But that she lights thy purer face and throat;

The only praise I'll give the nightingale

   Is that she draws from thee a richer note.

For, blinded with thy beauty, I am filled,

   Like Saul of Tarsus, with a greater light;

When he had heard that warning voice in Heaven,

   And lost his eyes to find a deeper sight.

Come, let us sit in that deep silence then,

   Launched on love's rapids, with our passions proud,

That makes all music hollow – though the lark

   Raves in his windy heights above a cloud.

~~

W.H. Davies (1871-1940)

from Georgian Poetry, 1918-1919, 1919

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada, the United States, and the European Union]

W.H. Davies biography