William Henry Davies

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

William Henry Davies Poems

1. The Worms' Contempt 8/3/2015
2. The Old Oak Tree 1/28/2016
3. The Fog 3/5/2015
4. The Flood 1/3/2003
5. The Hermit 1/3/2003
6. The Heap Of Rags 1/3/2003
7. The Child And The Mariner 1/3/2003
8. The Sluggard 1/3/2003
9. This Night 1/3/2003
10. The Boy 1/3/2003
11. The Hawk 1/3/2003
12. The Likeness 1/3/2003
13. The Mind's Liberty 1/3/2003
14. Where We Differ 1/3/2003
15. When On A Summer's Morn 1/3/2003
16. The Happy Child 1/3/2003
17. The Dark Hour 1/3/2003
18. The Bird Of Paradise 1/3/2003
19. The Example 1/3/2003
20. Sweet Stay-At-Home 1/3/2003
21. Truly Great 1/3/2003
22. Ale 1/3/2003
23. The Sleepers 1/3/2003
24. The Moon 1/3/2003
25. Charms 1/3/2003
26. In May 1/3/2003
27. Sadness And Joy 1/3/2003
28. Days Too Short 1/3/2003
29. Nell Barnes 1/3/2003
30. Seeking Beauty 1/3/2003
31. Thunderstorms 1/3/2003
32. A Greeting 1/3/2003
33. Come, Let Us Find 1/3/2003
34. Songs Of Joy 1/3/2003
35. Rich Or Poor 1/3/2003
36. In The Country 1/3/2003
37. No Master 1/3/2003
38. A Great Time 1/3/2003
39. A Fleeting Passion 1/3/2003
40. The Villain 1/3/2003

Comments about William Henry Davies

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  • Cliff Watkins (7/12/2018 3:16:00 AM)

    In 1939, the year of my birth, a nearby Primary School in Beckenham, Kent performed a choral play called Rainbows by Janet Percy. The Prologue was RAPTURES by W. H. Davies. Is it possible, please, foe me to see the words?
    Thank you.

    1 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Richard Evans (1/6/2018 12:55:00 AM)

    Still hard to comprehend a Newport boy could have travelled and experienced all as he did. Then to write it so simply and enigmatically, ok so beautifully. Thanks Davies, from Evans

    2 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Shikha (11/17/2017 8:45:00 AM)

    Thank you for this poem . It is very beautiful

    2 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • M.yasir (11/13/2017 5:09:00 AM)

    African jahil Fuck

    1 person liked.
    6 person did not like.
  • Dr Dillip K Swain Dr Dillip K Swain (10/9/2017 4:36:00 AM)

    Leisure by W. H. Davies...one of my favorite poems, , ! Such a great write..! ! I love reading it again and again..! ! Davies is a great poet to be remembered for all time to come

    2 person liked.
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  • George Sullivan (11/12/2013 4:18:00 PM)

    'Sheep' by W H Davies, submitted by George Sullivan 12 Nov 13
    WHEN I was once in Baltimore,
    A man came up to me and cried,
    “Come, I have eighteen hundred sheep,
    And we will sail on Tuesday’s tide.

    “If you will sail with me, young man,
    I’ll pay you fifty shillings down;
    These eighteen hundred sheep I take
    From Baltimore to Glasgow town.”

    He paid me fifty shillings down,
    I sailed with eighteen hundred sheep;
    We soon had cleared the harbour’s mouth,
    We soon were in the salt sea deep.

    The first night we were out at sea
    Those sheep were quiet in their mind;
    The second night they cried with fear —
    They smelt no pastures in the wind,

    They sniffed, poor things, for their green fields,
    They cried so loud I could not sleep:
    For fifty thousand shillings down
    I would not sail again with sheep.

    38 person liked.
    12 person did not like.
  • Lefty Profane (10/29/2012 4:42:00 PM)

    The man could see a century into the future. What a pitch perfect description of the Obama economic plan: Poor men need not go up so much as rich men should come down. Shared misery. Amen.

    40 person liked.
    17 person did not like.
  • George Sullivan (1/22/2011 12:05:00 PM)

    Can the poem 'Sheep' by W H Davies be published on this site?

    56 person liked.
    20 person did not like.
Best Poem of William Henry Davies

A Plain Life

No idle gold -- since this fine sun, my friend,
Is no mean miser, but doth freely spend.

No prescious stones -- since these green mornings show,
Without a charge, their pearls where'er I go.

No lifeless books -- since birds with their sweet tongues
Will read aloud to me their happier songs.

No painted scenes -- since clouds can change their skies
A hundred times a day to please my eyes.

No headstrong wine -- since, when I drink, the spring
Into my eager ears will softly sing.

No surplus clothes -- since every simple beast
Can teach me ...

Read the full of A Plain Life

The Boy

Go, little boy,
Fill thee with joy;
For Time gives thee
Unlicensed hours,
To run in fields,
And roll in flowers.

A little boy
Can life enjoy;

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