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	<title>Everyday Poems &#187; Davis, William H.</title>
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	<description>A Poem Every Day</description>
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		<title>THE MOON by William H. Davies</title>
		<link>http://www.everywritersresource.com/poemeveryday/2010/the-moon-by-william-h-davies/</link>
		<comments>http://www.everywritersresource.com/poemeveryday/2010/the-moon-by-william-h-davies/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 27 Apr 2010 01:00:34 +0000</pubDate>
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				<category><![CDATA[1800s]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[1900s]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Davis, William H.]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://www.everywritersresource.com/poemeveryday/?p=391</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[<a href="http://www.everywritersresource.com/poemeveryday/2010/the-moon-by-william-h-davies/"><img align="left" hspace="5" width="150" height="150" src="http://www.everywritersresource.com/poemeveryday/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/WilliamHenryDavies-150x150.jpg" class="alignleft wp-post-image tfe" alt="" title="WilliamHenryDavies" /></a>According to his own biography, William H. Davies was born in a public-house called Church House at Newport, in the County of Monmouthshire, April 20, 1870, of Welsh parents. He was, until Bernard Shaw "discovered" him, a cattleman, a berry-picker, a panhandler—in short, a vagabond. In a preface to Davies' second book, The Autobiography of a Super-Tramp (1906)]]></description>
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<p style="text-align: center;">William H. Davies (1871-1940)</p>
<p>THE MOON by William H. Davies</p>
<p>Thy beauty haunts me heart and soul,<br />
Oh, thou fair Moon, so close and bright;<br />
Thy beauty makes me like the child<br />
That cries aloud to own thy light:<br />
The little child that lifts each arm<br />
To press thee to her bosom warm.<br />
Though there are birds that sing this night<br />
With thy white beams across their throats,<br />
Let my deep silence speak for me<br />
More than for them their sweetest notes:<br />
Who worships thee till music fails,<br />
Is greater than thy nightingales.</p>
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