Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, JOY SUPREME, by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES

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JOY SUPREME, by            
First Line: The birds are pirates of her notes
Last Line: Her soft warm bosom swell on mine.
Alternate Author Name(s): Davies, W. H.
Subject(s): Happiness; Joy; Delight

THE birds are pirates of her notes,
The blossoms steal her face's light;
The stars in ambush lie all day,
To take her glances for the night.
Her voice can shame rain-pelted leaves;
Young robin has no notes as sweet
In autumn, when the air is still,
And all the other birds are mute.

When I set eyes on ripe, red plums
That seem a sin and shame to bite,
Such are her lips, which I would kiss,
And still would keep before my sight.
When I behold proud gossamer
Make silent billows in the air,
Then think I of her head's fine stuff,
Finer than gossamer's, I swear.

The miser has his joy, with gold
Beneath his pillow in the night;
My head shall lie on soft warm hair,
And misers know not that delight.
Captains that own their ships can boast
Their joy to feel the rolling brine --
But I shall lie near her, and feel
Her soft warm bosom swell on mine.

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