Edward Lewis Davison Poems

At last the cygnet, preening his plumed snow,
Wins the mid-stream. Mark his new beauty well!
Erect, uplit he sails; in the clear flow
Reflected, breast and wing,
...

Neither at dawn nor evening
Though legions camp hereby
Shall braying trumpets arouse him
To hear their battle cry.
...

Can April die today
And still deny the Spring
A welcome for her May?
...

The Bride of God has lain her head
At rest on Joseph's knee,
In hush of sleep her breath is dead,
Her hair falls loose and free,
...

Night blackens to the core. Poet, awake!
The worst, the darkest hour of your heart's ache
Begins...
...

Here a pure lady gave the dust
Her body, and the flowers her breath,
And yet had virtue left to thrust
A little dignity on Death.
...

Beyond the inmost barriers of the brain,
Hid by the tree of thought's most silent bough,
While suns and moons of mood arise and wane,
Patience, the owl, considers wisdom now.
...

'Falls from a cloud the singing bird
Into her nest of grass;
Say to me but a single word
And I will let you pass.
...

Beauty has walked in the broad light
By night and day since Time began,
In the broad road to left and right,
Free to the sight of every man
...