William Henry Davies

(3 July 1871 – 26 September 1940 / Monmouthshire / Wales)

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.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003

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Comments about this poem (Money by William Henry Davies )

  • Rookie Matthew Newman (3/2/2014 10:27:00 AM)

    Oh... the poor man might deserve a little raise, and the rich man just might be better off brought down quite the way, -o God forbid! - almost to the poor man's miserable level. If you find that so wrong and abusive I feel you have no heart or have seen nothing, or can't see past your class system perhaps... (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Lefty Profane (10/29/2012 4:45:00 PM)

    What a perfect desription of the Obama economic plan: shared misery. Poor men need not go up, so much as rich men should come down. ther man was a true visionary. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 16 Points Cleveland Gibson (7/6/2011 5:07:00 PM)

    So true. WHD you should know, you who spent what little you had on showing the world your poetry. (Report) Reply

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