the kingfisher

I have finally found The Kingfisher poem that has been running around the back of my head for the past few weeks. It wasn't a Walter De La Mare poem at all, but W H Davies. I remember reading it as a child but for no apparent reason it popped into my head and has been floating around ever since.

Glad I found it at last! Now I just need to track down that John Donne book.

The Kingfisher

IT was the Rainbow gave thee birth,
And left thee all her lovely hues;
And, as her mother's name was Tears,
So runs it in my blood to choose
For haunts the lonely pools, and keep
In company with trees that weep.

Go you and, with such glorious hues,
Live with proud peacocks in green parks;
On lawns as smooth as shining glass,
Let every feather show its marks;
Get thee on boughs and clap thy wings
Before the windows of proud kings.

Nay, lovely Bird, thou art not vain;
Thou hast no proud, ambitious mind;
I also love a quiet place
That's green, away from all mankind;
A lonely pool, and let a tree
Sigh with her bosom over me.

W.H. Davies