Classic and Contemporary Poetry
WAITING, by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES Poet Analysis First Line: Who can abide indoors this morn Last Line: A light must fall across the earth. Alternate Author Name(s): Davies, W. H. Subject(s): Waiting | ||||||||
Who can abide indoors this morn, Now sunny May is ten days born; In his house caged, a moping thing, When all the merry free birds sing? It is a pleasant time, and all The sky's so full of cloudlets small, That white doth seem Heaven's natural hue, And clouds themselves are painted blue. Now lusty May doth grow and burst Her bodice green; her hawthorn breast, Breaking those laces once so tight, Doth more than peep its lovely white. Come forth, my Love, for Nature wears This hour her bridal smile; she hears Ten thousand bantering birds, as they Do hop upon her blossomed way. The Sun doth shine, all things rejoice; The cows forget the milkmaid's voice; Of gardeners flowers have little care, The sheep care not where shepherds are, Dewdrops are in the grass, and they Are twenty times more bright than day; And if we look them close their rays Will even make our own eyes daze; But from that red and fiery Sun Some timid drops of dew have run Down the green blades of grass, and found At once a cool place underground; The birds sing at their high, sweet pitch, And bees sing basso deep and rich. May is Love's month: her flowers and voice Call youth and maiden to rejoice, And fill their hearts with Love's sweet pains; They meet with laughter in green lanes, And then they turn to whispering, Under the leaves where the birds sing. Fie, fie, my love; you wait too long To hear that old, black kettle's song; He'll keep thee suffering long for him, And a true lover for his whim I've seen where you did stand last night, Near the old stile: that spot is white With daisies, and I swear, they were Never in that green place before; But that those sweet flowers came to sight Since we two parted there last night, At sunset, when that western world Had four green rainbows rimmed with gold. You indoors when the skylark long Has sung on high his matin song! The humble bees, dressed in black cloth, Like mourners for the dead, come forth With their false groans -- for soon they'll stop With red-faced flowers to drink a drop; Until they are so tight with drink, They must lie down awhile and think. So quiet lie the Butterflies, Some Bees can scarce believe their eyes, But what they're Blossoms, lovelier far, And sweeter than all others are. But one black Bee did come along, A big, black bully, fat and strong, And saw my Lady Butterfly, Who, dreaming sweet romance, did lie Lazy on a red flower; and he, Vexed she'd not toil like Ant or Bee, Buzzed in her ears, and grumbled so -- She must at last arise and go. Come, Love, and breathe on these small flowers, So they may live a few more hours. Had I been near, you had not ta'en Sleep's second draught and drowsed again, But waked for good at my first kiss -- As Phoebus made these flowers with his. Young Buds are here, that wait to see How you do part your lips for me, Ere they ope theirs the least -- who wait Your coming, Love, which is so late. We'll miss, when summer is no more, The very weed that chokes a flower. Alas! too soon the time must come When leaves will fall, and birds be dumb; And but red Robin's breast will show How the late fruits and flowers did glow. The leafy Elm, that now has made For twenty kine a pleasant shade, Will in its scraggy bones stand bare, With not one leaf seen anywhere. The Stream will take and bury one By one, till Willow's leaves are gone; The Hedge -- see how it dances now! Will stand to its broad waist in snow. Yet what care I? If I have thee, 'Twill still be summer time to me; Though no Sun shines, when you come forth A light must fall across the earth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ALMOST AN ELEGY by JOSEPH BRODSKY THE AWAKENING by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON WAITING FOR SWEET BETTY by CLARENCE MAJOR GENTLEMEN, I ADDRESS YOU PUBLICLY by KENNETH REXROTH LA VIE EN ROSE by KENNETH REXROTH A BIRD'S ANGER by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES |
|