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William Henry Davies
1871-1940

I AM THE POET DAVIS, WILLIAM

I am the poet Davis, William
I sin without a blush or blink:
I am a man that lives to eat,
I am a man that lives to drink.

My face is large, my lips are thick,
My skin is coarse and black almost;
But the ugliest feature is my verse,
Which proves my soul is black and lost.

Thank heaven thou didst not marry me,
A poet full of blackest evil;
For how to manage my damned soul
Will puzzle many a flaming devil.

The Example

Here's an example from
A Butterfly;
That on rough, hard rock
Happy can lie;
Friendless and all alone
On this unsweetened stone.

Now letmy bed be hard
No care take I;
I'll make my joy like this
Small Butterfly,
Whose happy heart has power
To make astone a flower.

© 2000 Elena and Yacov Feldman