I googled “summer poems” this morning and found this lovely poem by a Welsh poet, William Henry Davies/W.H. Davies and lo and behold found out he was also born in July, July 3rd to be exact…so let’s think of this as an early birthday recognition.
“W.H. Davies was born in south Wales, in the small town of Newport, Gwent, in 1871. He left school in his mid teens, and was apprenticed to a picture frame business. A wide and enthusiastic reader, he nurtured ambitions of travel, which the death of an aunt helped realise, for he was left with a small legacy. Having travelled to the USA, he lived as a tramp for some years. Then, while moving north to Canada, he lost a leg through jumping a train.He returned to England, and continued a vagrant life, frequenting the doss houses of London.”( Bridges, James. “W. H. Davies”. The Literary Encyclopedia. First published 21 March 2003 [http://www.litencyc.com/php/speople.php?rec=true&UID=5213, accessed 01 July 2013.]
In 1908, W.H. Davies published The Autobiography of a Super- Tramp. “Published a quarter of a century before Orwell’s Down and Out in Paris and London and fifty years ahead of Kerouac’s On the Road, Davies’s account of his impoverished but carefree life was a sensation.”–100welshheroes
When on a Summer’s Morn
by William Henry Davies
When on a summer’s morn I wake,
And open my two eyes,
Out to the clear, born-singing rills
My bird-like spirit flies.
To hear the Blackbird, Cuckoo, Thrush,
Or any bird in song;
And common leaves that hum all day
Without a throat or tongue.
And when Time strikes the hour for sleep,
Back in my room alone,
My heart has many a sweet bird’s song —
And one that’s all my own.