This week: William Henry Davies Edited by: Stormy Lady  
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April's Charms
by William Henry Davies
When April scatters charms of primrose gold
Among the copper leaves in thickets old,
And singing skylarks from the meadows rise,
To twinkle like black stars in sunny skies;
When I can hear the small woodpecker ring
Time on a tree for all the birds that sing;
And hear the pleasant cuckoo, loud and long --
The simple bird that thinks two notes a song;
When I can hear the woodland brook, that could
Not drown a babe, with all his threatening mood;
Upon these banks the violets make their home,
And let a few small strawberry vlossoms come:
When I go forth on such a pleasant day,
One breath outdoors takes all my cares away;
It goes like heavy smoke, when flames take hold
Of wood that's green and fill a grate with gold.
Thunderstorms
by William Henry Davies
My mind has thunderstorms,
That brood for heavy hours:
Until they rain me words,
My thoughts are drooping flowers
And sulking, silent birds.
Yet come, dark thunderstorms,
And brood your heavy hours;
For when you rain me words,
My thoughts are dancing flowers
And joyful singing birds.
On 3 July 1871 in Pillgwenlly, Newport, Monmouth, Francis Boase Davies and his wife Mary Ann welcomed their second son Wiliam Henry Davies into the world. Davies's older brother had learning disabilities. Davies also had a younger sister. Davies's father was a tradesman and died when Davies was three years old. After his death his mother, Mary Ann remarried. Davies was raised by his grandparents. Upon finishing school Davies did an apprenticeship as a carver and gilder.
At the age of twenty-two Davies took his small inheritance and traveled to North America, where he was a transient. He spent several years jumping trains from location to location taking odd jobs and panhandling to earn money. When he was twenty-eight he slipped while jumping trains and his leg was amputated at the knee. Davies returned to Britain to focus on being a writer.
Davies self-published his first book of poetry, "The Soul's Destroyer," in 1905 at the age of 34. Over the next six years Davies published eight books over the next several years. By 1911 he was considered an established author and poet. Davies met and married Helen Payne, a much younger woman, in 1923. In 1929, for his services to literature, he was awarded the honorary degree of D.Litt. by the University of Wales. Davies best known work was "Autobiography of a Super-Tramp," published in 1908. Most of his poetry was about nature or life on the road. "Nature Poems and Others" published in 1908 followed by "Beggars" published in 1909, "Farewell to Poesy," published in 1910, "Songs of Joy and Others," and "A Weak Woman" both published in 1911.
When William Henry Davies passed away on September 26, 1940 he had published about fifty books. Turning his struggles into success.
A Fleeting Passion
by William Henry Davies
Thou shalt not laugh, thou shalt not romp,
Let's grimly kiss with bated breath;
As quietly and solemnly
As Life when it is kissing Death.
Now in the silence of the grave,
My hand is squeezing that soft breast;
While thou dost in such passion lie,
It mocks me with its look of rest.
But when the morning comes at last,
And we must part, our passions cold,
You'll think of some new feather, scarf
To buy with my small piece of gold;
And I'll be dreaming of green lanes,
Where little things with beating hearts
Hold shining eyes between the leaves,
Till men with horses pass, and carts.
The Dark Hour
by William Henry Davies
And now, when merry winds do blow,
And rain makes trees look fresh,
An overpowering staleness holds
This mortal flesh.
Though well I love to feel the rain,
And be by winds well blown --
The mystery of mortal life
Doth press me down.
And, In this mood, come now what will,
Shine Rainbow, Cuckoo call;
There is no thing in Heaven or Earth
Can lift my soul.
I know not where this state comes from --
No cause for grief I know;
The Earth around is fresh and green,
Flowers near me grow.
I sit between two fair rose trees;
Red roses on my right,
And on my left side roses are
A lovely white.
The little birds are full of joy,
Lambs bleating all the day;
The colt runs after the old mare,
And children play.
And still there comes this dark, dark hour --
Which is not borne of Care;
Into my heart it creeps before
I am aware.
Thank you all!
Stormy Lady
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The winner of "Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest" [ASR] is:
"Broken"
Broken
In solitude, I climb the hill,
horsemint perfume in the air.
The empty blue of open sky
makes visions ‘round me clear and fair.
And yet, my heart is not at peace,
filled with torment and regret.
Bitter feelings cloud my mind,
scenarios I can’t forget.
You left me to pursue your wants,
so now I linger in limbo.
You turned with ease, walked out the door,
but I can’t seem to let you go.
I reach the hill top, wondering
how I can continue on.
Wearied, breathless without you,
I can’t believe you’re really gone
Honorable mention:
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Poetry: January 27, 2021 Issue [#10584]
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