The Poetry Corner


By William Henry Davies

What exultations in my mind, From the love-bite of this Easter wind! My head thrown back, my face doth shine Like yonder Sun's, but warmer mine. A butterfly - from who knows where - Comes with a stagger through the air, And, lying down, doth ope and close His wings, as babies work their toes: Perhaps he thinks of pressing tight Into his wings a little light! And many a bird hops in between The leaves he dreams of, long and green, And sings for nipple-buds that show Where the full-breasted leaves must grow.