Thou dost not fly, thou art not perched,
The air is all around:
What is it that can keep thee set,
From falling to the ground?
The concentration of thy mind
Supports thee in the air;
As thou dost watch the small young birds,
With such a deadly care.
My mind has such a hawk as thou,
It is an evil mood;
It comes when there's no cause for grief,
And on my joys doth brood.
Then do I see my life in parts;
The earth receives my bones,
The common air absorbs my mind---
It knows not flowers from stones.
Back to William Henry Davies
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓
To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.
Comments1Just finished reading something from William Henry Davies for my homework. It was kinda cool how he used the hawk as a metaphor. Didn't get all of it but I like the whole introspection thing goin' on. Kinda makes you think about your own thoughts and stuff 🤔🦅. Need to read more poems like this one.