William H. Davies

THUNDERSTORMS My mind has thunderstorms,  That brood for heavy hours:Until they rain me words,  My thoughts are drooping flowersAnd sulking, silent birds. Yet come, dark thunderstorms,  And brood your heavy hours;For when you rain me words,  My thoughts are dancing flowersAnd joyful singing birds. Sometimes I hear fine ladies sing,  Sometimes I smoke and drink with men;Sometimes I play at... more...