Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE SONG OF LOVE, by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES Poet Analysis First Line: The oak bears little acorns, yet Last Line: Reached out to take god's dove? Alternate Author Name(s): Davies, W. H. Subject(s): Love | ||||||||
I The oak bears little acorns, yet Is big in branch and root: My love is like the smaller tree, That bears a larger fruit. II In Spring, when it is leafing time, We know what plants will live; But love needs never wait for Spring, To show its power to thrive. III Trouble may come, yet love will stay: No heavy rain can beat The lightning down and out -- and birds Wet through sing twice as sweet. IV Love is a staff, and Love's a rod, A wise man and a fool; I thought that I was wise, until Love sent me back to school. V Scorn not because my body lives In such a little place; Think how my mind, on that account, Inhabits greater space. VI My smallest blossom sometimes is The Moon or setting Sun; Seas are my pearls, and forests vast Have no more trees than one! VII The finest scarf or collar made, To keep a woman warm, By night or day, on sea or land, Is still a lover's arm. VIII Last night I dreamt that Dinah's ghost Was standing near my bed: What brings you here this hour of the night, Picking your cheek? I said. IX She picked her cheek with her right hand, Then held her arm out firm: She made my hand a present then Of a tiny little worm. X Lie here, I said, my poor dead love, I'll not live many hours; And take my word that I'll return A worm of mine for yours. XI I thought when I was thirty years, My marrying time had come; But in that year the girl I love Was in her mother's womb. XII But when she brought her twenty years To my two score and ten, I heard a cuckoo in a place It never charmed till then. XIII Time, my love said, is sprinkling his White jewels in my hair; To join like dewdrops soon, and make One big white diamond there! XIV So let her still praise Age and Time, The more our years are told, And say a garden's beauty grows The more as it grows old. XV Six months in friendship, side by side, Like blades of grass we grew; Love pinned us then together with One diamond of his dew. XVI Since then our love has vaster grown, Far up the branches reach; Our smallest twigs as big as trunks Of full-grown oak or beech. XVII And though my years outnumber hers By thirty years all told, My healthy fear of Death remains To prove I am not old. XVIII Who can deserve a dog's pure love, Which any villain can have? One of the richest things on earth Goes cheap to any knave. XIX My dog and I are waiting now, His love is safe at least; But never think my love can be shamed By the love of my beast. XX Let's marry soon, and live no more Like disappointed flowers Whose heads are wet, but not their feet -- When mocked by passing showers. XXI Where shall we live, in some green vale, Or on a hill that's high? Sometimes a hill and wood are one, With tree-tops in the sky. XXII And should we live in London town Shall we by chance not meet Two horses with a load of hay, Sweetening a crowded street? XXIII A sight as fair as when the Sun Is burning on a pool, And, standing on their heads in water, The ducks keep calm and cool. XXIV When I was rich without a care, And lived with wandering men -- My belly spread across my back Was all my bed-clothes then. XXV But when I say a house is mine, The tax-collectors come To show a man is poor indeed, Who keeps a little home. XXVI I'll go into the country now And find a little house; And though its eyes are small, they shall Have heavy, leafy brows. XXVII A house with curtains made of leaves, Hanging from every stone; I'll pass before the windows oft, And it shall not be known. XXVIII I'll have a garden full of flowers, With many a corner-place; Where love can learn from spiders' webs To make her mats of lace. XXIX When I am at one end of the garden And she at the other end, I'll see the Sun's bright face and hers Into each other blend. XXX Until her face alone is seen, And nothing she has on; I'll see her shining face, with no More body than the Sun. XXXI We'll sit in our garden, with a joy That's great enough to give The Sun our pity with his poor Few million years to live. XXXII We'll keep a pool where under leaves The fish swim out and in; Sometimes we'll see a breast of gold, Sometimes a silver fin. XXXIII And though I scorn a painted skin, Think not my tongue could scold her, Should such fair things as butterflies Encourage her to powder. XXXIV And if, when I've been out with some Bass-singing, belted bee, I take a drink or two myself -- Will she not pardon me? XXXV One time I thought it was my brain That made the songs I sing; But now I know it is a heart That loveth every thing. XXXVI And while his heart's blood feeds his brain, To keep it warm and young, A man can live a hundred years, And day break into song. XXXVII How sad it is when Age has lost Imagination's power, And with a feeble, active tongue Can jest of his last hour. XXXVIII But when I hear no birds in song, And beauty there is none, That is the hour when Death can strike -- With all my wonder gone. XXXIX The hour I hear a nightingale, Or see a dragonfly, Shall not be my last hour on earth -- For then I cannot die. XL My love grows large when I behold A blossom sucked by a bee; Or leaves with sails of butterflies, Floating like ships at sea. XLI So will my love increase when I Can cast some kindly light Of human thought on matter dead, That's lovely to my sight. XLII Our life is dust, and dust is life: When I am heavy and sigh, A paper rag that rides the wind Is greater far than I. XLIII I pass through life a laughing man, Untouched by any sin: Death makes us all, both king and fool, Lie down at last to grin. XLIV And who can tell, when stripped by Death, A monarch from his clown; Who knows which head has worn the bells, And which has worn the crown? XLV Day after day, and night by night, The silly game is fought: Life makes a question mark, and Death Answers it with a nought. XLVI No matter what we say or do, Or what it's all about, There's that lean fellow, Death, behind, Waiting to blot it out. XLVII Is Death a mask that Life puts on To curb our foolish laughter; And shall our spirits, living still, Enjoy the jest hereafter? XLVIII Is Death's dark tunnel endless night Where, entering, none can choose; Or is a greater light to come Beyond the light we lose? XLIX Answer, you poets, one and all, Answer us from the Height; Speak from your Many-jewelled Mountain -- Are we wrong or right? L But the more I question things unknown, The more my mind is lost; My voice is Echo's echo, and My life a Shadow's ghost. LI For while I speak the thunder growls; My dog, without a whine, Barks fiercely back, and proves his voice To be as vain as mine. LII When as a little boy I saw The water break and stir, I wondered what mysterious life Had brought those bubbles there. LIII Now as a man full-grown and strong, And known to many men, I watch those bubbles still, and know No more than I did then. LIV Is there a God, I ask, and smoke -- But fear, with reverence, To foul the Face of a God with smoke And a mortal's arrogance. LV My pipe goes out, I sit in thought, A humble man and sad: And then a voice within me says -- You have done well, my lad. LVI The great broad rivers, miles in width, Are for the world to roam; But little streams, for paddling feet, Whisper of Heaven and home. LVII Could we survive the breathless leap That brought her door to mine, I would not care if a whirlwind made Our houses toe one line. LVIII I would not care if an earthquake came And opened its mouth wide, If when it closed and shrunk the earth, It brought her to my side. LIX When deer and tigers flee from fire, Which is the master then? Love shares the power with Fear to bring Equality to men. LX The king who would not rather see His queen without her crown, Is but a king, and less a man Than any lover in town. LXI Who is this creature that has come Between her life and mine? I saw the look she gave my love, And took it for a sign. LXII I saw the hard and cruel look, To wither, dry and wilt: Where were her adder-bracelets then, And deadly, scorpion-belt? LXIII We'll not make Jealousy our foe, A hound to track us down; That sleepless hound, with bloodshot eyes, Shall be to us unknown. LXIV Give Jealousy his shadows, let Him still gnaw lifeless stones, And in his wild delirium think He works on meaty bones. LXV All other women that I know, I'll look on them as men; She'll look on other men as women -- There'll be no trouble then. LXVI My rival has a pleasant wife, But who has heard her name? Let him praise his, as I'll praise mine, And leave the rest to Fame. LXVII See how my horse can fret and stamp To pass a bird in flight: My rival's horse is stamping too -- To shake off fleas that bite. LXVIII A donkey's gallop, rare and short, Gives joy to all that see't: My rival's horse gives joy to none -- Except its own vain poet. LXIX Would that some power would turn all things To mirrors that reflect him; To haunt him with his own vain face, Till later days neglect him. LXX If our contented hearts are blind To what the world calls great, How can that world, whose pride is wealth, Look down on our low state? LXXI The thing we call a truth to-day Is but to-morrow's lie; We change our minds, our bodies change, Until we come to die. LXXII To-day I swear that music's best, To-morrow swear by books; If there's one truth that stays unchanged, It's Love, and how she looks. LXXIII The story of my love shall be, When I am one with Her, Far richer than a Blackbird's yarn In merry April's ear. LXXIV I praise the Blackbird's golden bill Because of his golden song: Were Love less kind than she is fair, The devil could take my song. LXXV When she, poor bird, is croaking hoarse After her glorious June, The Nightingale shall wonder much To hear my love in tune. LXXVI Skylarks sing well for meadows green, But for ploughed land sing sweeter: When I was single I sang well, But married men sing better. LXXVII When rats bite rats and snakes bite snakes, They seldom die from harm: Could Dinah live if one of these Should bite her leg or arm? LXXVIII We'll live beyond our fellow's reach, From gossip, slander, strife, And leave those human rats and snakes To their own poisoned life. LXXIX So when my foe, who knows far less Than He who knows all life, Has taken a mistress from my side, God gives me a good wife. LXXX A fool without experience, poor, Began one day to think How rich he'd be with scores of friends -- And wrote that down in ink. LXXXI A rich man said, with scores of friends, Who wisely understood, 'How poor am I with these false friends!' And wrote that down in blood. LXXXII I met a lonely man who had No friend, no child, no wife: O what a wretched thing, said I, Is this poor mortal's life! LXXXIII But when I met a poorer man, With neither friend nor foe, This man is doubly damned, said I -- With twice the other's woe. LXXXIV But Love has saved me from that state, I shall not live alone, A weak, unloved, unhated thing, Unnoticed and unknown. LXXXV Though we are two are we not one? Aye, even as that Pair Of scissors, which we hold in turns, To cut each other's hair. LXXXVI One -- like our Pair of household tongs, There with his crooked thighs, His long thin legs, his little head With neither mouth nor eyes. LXXXVII My Love is fair, but fairer still With eyes a little wild; When she forgets how fair she is, And wonders like a child. LXXXVIII Let not her face be doted on Too much by stranger men, For when her back is turned their eyes Dart on her ankles then. LXXXIX When flies are old and going blind, They bite all things they touch: But never think that Age or Time Will trouble Love so much. XC And when a Spider damns the dew For pearls on every string, My Love will clap her hands, and say -- 'Look at this lovely thing!' XCI I've seen six bees together kiss A Sunflower's golden face; But still she turns towards the Sun, And follows face to face. XCII So, thinking of my greater love, I live on her good looks; And give my second thoughts, not first, To music, verse, or books. XCIII The kiss of Love is half a bite, And worth a thousand others; Girls who have no desire for that Should never leave their mothers. XCIV Should she complain no kiss of mine Has left one little bite, I'll let her take a needle and thread And sew my mouth up tight. XCV If cheek or chin of hers can say It never felt one nip, I'll let her take a packet of pins And pin me lip to lip. XCVI In Winter, when the evergreens Have seen their plumpness go; When all the little holly leaves Wear padded gloves of snow -- XCVII We'll pay the birds for their past songs, In bread that's white and new: Jack Frost, the finest artist known, Shall be the kindest, too. XCVIII Her birthday comes, and I will buy A pair of buckled shoes; With two silk stockings cradled there, Between the heels and toes. XCIX Her right leg's stocking shall contain A comb to dress her hair; In her left stocking she shall find A silver thimble there. C See how my hands stretch out to take The hand of Her I love: Did Noah make more haste when he Reached out to take God's Dove? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE INVENTION OF LOVE by MATTHEA HARVEY TWO VIEWS OF BUSON by ROBERT HASS A LOVE FOR FOUR VOICES: HOMAGE TO FRANZ JOSEPH HAYDN by ANTHONY HECHT AN OFFERING FOR PATRICIA by ANTHONY HECHT LATE AFTERNOON: THE ONSLAUGHT OF LOVE by ANTHONY HECHT A SWEETENING ALL AROUND ME AS IT FALLS by JANE HIRSHFIELD A BIRD'S ANGER by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES |
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