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. Smiles
2. My Youth
3. The Sleepers
4. The Starved
5. Poor Kings

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