23 Total Quotes

William Davies Quotes

A poor life this if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare.
William Davies
#Life #Welsh Poet

With this small house, this garden large,This little gold, this lovely mate,With health in body, peace in heart--Show me a man more great.
William Davies
#Body

Good morning, Life -- and allThings glad and beautiful.
William Davies
#Advice

It was the Rainbow gave thee birth, / And left thee all her lovely hues.
William Davies
#Birth

Teetotallers lack the sympathy and generosity of men that drink.
William Davies
#Welsh Poet #Generosity

My walls outside must have some flowers,My walls within must have some books;A house that's small; a garden large,And in it leafy nooks.
William Davies
#Books And Reading

As long as I love Beauty I am young.
William Davies
#Beauty #Welsh Poet

I love thee for a heart that's kind --not for the knowledge in thy mind.
William Davies
#Heart

When I had money, money, O!My many friends proved all untrue;But now I have no money, O!My friends are real though very few.
William Davies
#Friends Or Friendship

And though I'm sure I see those eyes, I'm not so sure a body's there!
William Davies
#Eyes

When will it come, that golden time,When every heart must sing?The power to choose the work we loveMakes every man a king.
William Davies
#Heart

The more help a person has in his garden, the less it belongs to him.
William Davies
#Welsh Poet

But cats to me are strange, so strange I cannot sleep if one is near. . . .
William Davies
#Cats

My walls outside must have some flowers, My walls within must have some books; A house that's small; a garden large, And in it leafy nooks.
William Davies
#Flowers

I love thee for a heart that's kind -- not for the knowledge in thy mind.
William Davies
#Heart

Thou shalt not laugh, thou shalt not romp, Let's grimly kiss with bated breath; As quietly and solemnly As Life when it is kissing Death. Now in the silence of the grave, My hand is squeezing that soft breast; While thou dost in such passion lie, It mocks me with its look of rest. But when the morning comes at last, And we must part, our passions cold, You'll think of some new feather, scarf To buy with my small piece of gold; And I'll be dreaming of green lanes, Where little things with beating hearts Hold shining eyes between the leaves, Till men with horses pass, and carts.
William Davies
#Passion

No idle gold -- since this fine sun, my friend, Is no mean miser, but doth freely spend. No prescious stones -- since these green mornings show, Without a charge, their pearls where'er I go. No lifeless books -- since birds with their sweet tongues Will read aloud to me their happier songs. No painted scenes -- since clouds can change their skies A hundred times a day to please my eyes. No headstrong wine -- since, when I drink, the spring Into my eager ears will softly sing. No surplus clothes -- since every simple beast Can teach me to be happy with the least.
William Davies
#Poems about Life

Cold winds can never freeze, nor thunder sour The cup of cheer that Beauty draws for me Out of those Azure heavens and this green earth -- I drink and drink, and thirst the more I see. To see the dewdrops thrill the blades of grass, Makes my whole body shake; for here's my choice Of either sun or shade, and both are green -- A Chaffinch laughs in his melodious voice. The banks are stormed by Speedwell, that blue flower So like a little heaven with one star out; I see an amber lake of buttercups, And Hawthorn foams the hedges round about. The old Oak tree looks now so green and young, That even swallows perch awhile and sing: This is that time of year, so sweet and warm, When bats wait not for stars ere they take wing. As long as I love Beauty I am young, Am young or old as I love more or less; When Beauty is not heeded or seems stale, My life's a cheat, let Death end my distress.
William Davies
#Beauty

Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Well-content, Thou knowest of no strange continent; Thou hast not felt thy bosom keep A gentle motion with the deep; Thou hast not sailed in Indian seas, Where scent comes forth in every breeze. Thou hast not seen the rich grape grow For miles, as far as eyes can go: Thou hast not seen a summer's night When maids could sew by a worm's light; Nor the North Sea in spring send out Bright hues that like birds flit about In solid cages of white ice -- Sweet Stay-at-Home, sweet Love-one-place, Thou hast not seen black fingers pick White cotton when the bloom is thick, Nor heard black throats in harmony; Nor hast thou sat on stones that lie Flat on the earth, that once did rise To hide proud kings from common eyes. Thou hast not seen plains full of bloom Where green things had such little room They pleased the eye like fairer flowers -- Sweet Stay-at-Home, all these long hours. Sweet Well-content, sweet Love-one-place, Sweet, simple maid, bless thy dear face; For thou hast made more homely stuff Nurture thy gentle self enough; I love thee for a heart that's kind -- Not for the knowledge in thy mind.
William Davies
#Home

Thy beauty haunts me heart and soul, Oh, thou fair Moon, so close and bright; Thy beauty makes me like the child That cries aloud to own thy light: The little child that lifts each arm To press thee to her bosom warm. Though there are birds that sing this night With thy white beams across their throats, Let my deep silence speak for me More than for them their sweetest notes: Who worships thee till music fails, Is greater than thy nightingales.
William Davies
#Moon