Since I have seen a bird one day,
His head pecked more than half away;
That hopped about, with but one eye,
Ready to fight again, and die,
Ofttimes since then their private lives
Have spoilt that joy their music gives.
So when I see this robin now,
Like a red apple on the bough,
And question why he sings so strong,
For love, or for the love of song;
Or sings, maybe, for that sweet rill
Whose silver tongue is never still,
Ah, now there comes this thought unkind,
Born of the knowledge in my mind:
He sings in triumph that last night
He killed his father in a fight;
And now he'll take his mother's blood,
The last strong rival for his food.
The Truth
William Henry Davies
(1)
Poem topics: away, father, food, joy, mother, music, never, night, red, silver, song, bird, head, sweet, tongue, ready, question, knowledge, apple, mind, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about The Truth poem by William Henry Davies
Best Poems of William Henry Davies