William Henry Davies

Here you will find the Poem The Hawk of poet William Henry Davies

The Hawk

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 birgs, 
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.