Rich Days (William Henry Davies Poem)
Welcome to you rich Autumn days, Ere comes the cold, leaf-picking wind; When golden stocks are seen in fields, All ...
Welcome to you rich Autumn days, Ere comes the cold, leaf-picking wind; When golden stocks are seen in fields, All ...
With thy true love I have more wealth Than Charon's piled-up bank doth hold; Where he makes kings lay down ...
Indeed this is the sweet life! my hand Is under no proud man's command; There is no voice to break ...
What is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. No time to stand ...
Yes, I will spend the livelong day With Nature in this month of May; And sit beneath the trees, and ...
This life is sweetest; in this wood I hear no children cry for food; I see no woman, white with ...
Now, joy is born of parents poor, And pleasure of our richer kind; Though pleasure's free, she cannot sing As ...
If I were gusty April now, How I would blow at laughing Rose; I'd make her ribbons slip their knots, ...
When April scatters charms of primrose gold Among the copper leaves in thickets old, And singing skylarks from the meadows ...
She walks as lightly as the fly Skates on the water in July. To hear her moving petticoat For me ...
A week ago I had a fire To warm my feet, my hands and face; Cold winds, that never make ...
Come, let us find a cottage, love, That's green for half a mile around; To laugh at every grumbling bee, ...
When primroses are out in Spring, And small, blue violets come between; When merry birds sing on boughs green, And ...
Thou shalt not laugh, thou shalt not romp, Let's grimly kiss with bated breath; As quietly and solemnly As Life ...
Sweet Chance, that led my steps abroad, Beyond the town, where wild flowers grow -- A rainbow and a cuckoo, ...
Good morning, Life--and all Things glad and beautiful. My pockets nothing hold, But he that owns the gold, The Sun, ...
No idle gold -- since this fine sun, my friend, Is no mean miser, but doth freely spend. No prescious ...
Now do I hear thee weep and groan, Who hath a comrade sunk at sea? Then quaff thee of my ...
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