William Henry Davies

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

The Moon - Poem by William Henry Davies

Thy beauty haunts me heart and soul,
Oh, thou fair Moon, so close and bright;
Thy beauty makes me like the child
That cries aloud to own thy light:
The little child that lifts each arm
To press thee to her bosom warm.

Though there are birds that sing this night
With thy white beams across their throats,
Let my deep silence speak for me
More than for them their sweetest notes:
Who worships thee till music fails,
Is greater than thy nightingales.


Comments about The Moon by William Henry Davies

  • (3/21/2006 2:52:00 PM)


    Reading this poem gives us back moonlit nights that we have known, and we see so clearly the moonlight night the poet describes for us. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: child, beauty, music, silence, moon, light, night, heart, children



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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