The Kingfisher
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| The Kingfisher || Poem |
It was the Rainbow gave thee birth,
And left thee all her pretty hues;
And, as her mother’s name was Tears,
So runs it in my blood to decide on
For haunts the lonely pools, and keep
In company with trees that express feelings.
Go you and, with such wonderful hues,
Live with proud peacocks in inexperienced parks;
On lawns as sleek as shining glass,
Let each feather show its marks;
Before the windows of proud kings.
Nay, pretty Bird, thousand art not vain;
Thou hast no proud, bold mind;
I conjointly love a quiet place
That’s inexperienced, far from all mankind;
A lonely pool, and let a tree
Sigh together with her bosom over ME.
By William Henry Davies
About the writer
William Henry Davies was Welsh writer and author. He was born on third Gregorian calendar month 1871, in Newport. Davies spent a major a part of his life as a vagabond, within the uk, however became one among the foremost common poets of his time. He died in twenty sixth Gregorian calendar month 1940 in Nailsworth.