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Ô­ÎÄ

Abraham Cowley £¨1618-1667)

The Swallow

Foolish prater, what dost thou
So early at my window do?
Cruel bird, thou'st ta'en away
A dream out of my arms to-day;
A dream that ne'er must equall'd be
By all that waking eyes may see.
Thou this damage to repair
Nothing half so sweet and fair,
Nothing half so good, canst bring,
Tho' men say thou bring'st the Spring.

 

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Ô­ÎÄ

William Henry Davies(1871-1940)

 

The Example

 

Here's an example from
   A Butterfly;

That on a rough, hard rock
   Happy can lie;
Friendless and all alone
On this unsweetened stone.

Now let my bed be hard
   No care take I;

I'll make my joy like this
   Small Butterfly;
Whose happy heart has power
To make a stone a flower.


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Ô­ÎÄ

Edward Thomas (1878-1917)

 

July

 

Naught moves but clouds, and in the glassy lake
Their doubles and the shadow of my boat.
The boat itself stirs only when I break
This drowse of heat and solitude afloat
To prove if what I see be bird or mote,
Or learn if yet the shore woods be awake.

Long hours since dawn grew, - spread, - and passed on high
And deep below, - I have watched the cool reeds hung
Over images more cool in imaged sky:
Nothing there was worth thinking of so long;
All that the ring-doves say, far leaves among,
Brims my mind with content thus still to lie.

 

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