Leisure by W.H. Davies What is this life, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare, No time to stand beneath the boughs And stare as long as sheep or cows. No time to see, when woods we pass, Where squirrels hide their nuts in the grass. No time to see, in broad daylight, Streams full of stars, like skies at night. No time to turn at Beauty's glance, And watch her feet, how they can dance. No time to wait till her mouth can Enrich that smile her eyes began. A poor life this if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Thursday, August 22, 2013
I HOPE by Mildred Bowers Armstrong I hope that I shall never tire Of watching colors in the fire. I hope I shall not be too old To see the lilac-stars unfold, Or find the pear tree wearing white When spring is summer over-night. When I am tired of rapture, Let me die then. Let me never see the frost Or a fern again. When songs do not delight, When waves that lip the pier, Or driftwood fires, Or faces, Are no longer dear- Let me die quickly; Let me not know The eyes of friends, Candlelight, silence, or snow.