This Night (William Henry Davies Poem)
This night, as I sit here alone, And brood on what is dead and gone, The owl that's in this ...
This night, as I sit here alone, And brood on what is dead and gone, The owl that's in this ...
WHAT moves that lonely man is not the boom Of waves that break agains the cliff so strong; Nor roar ...
A dear old couple my grandparents were, And kind to all dumb things; they saw in Heaven The lamb that ...
When I had money, money, O! I knew no joy till I went poor; For many a false man as ...
Now, joy is born of parents poor, And pleasure of our richer kind; Though pleasure's free, she cannot sing As ...
What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. No time to stand ...
When primroses are out in Spring, And small, blue violets come between; When merry birds sing on boughs green, And ...
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