Poem by William Henry Davies

Thunderstorms

My mind has thunderstorms,
  That brood for heavy hours:
Until they rain me words,
  My thoughts are drooping flowers
And sulking, silent birds.

Yet come, dark thunderstorms,
  And brood your heavy hours;
For when you rain me words,
  My thoughts are dancing flowers
And joyful singing birds.

1. Poor Kings
2. The Starved
3. The Old Oak Tree
4. Seeking Joy
5. Love and the Muse

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