by William Henry Davies
When I can hear the small woodpeckers ring
Time on a tree for all the birds that sing ;
And hear the pleasant cuckoo, loud and long?
The simple bird that thinks two notes a song.
And here are butterflies: poor things
Amazed with new-created wings;
They in the air-waves roll distressed
Like ships at sea; and when they rest
They cannot help but open and close Their wings, like babies with their toes.
Note: Today is the birthday of the English poet William Henry Davies. Davies loved the natural world, especially birds and butterflies. George Bernard Shaw was a fan of his work, and he wrote the preface of Davies' autobiography.