How many buds in this warm light
Have burst out laughing into leaves!
And shall a day like this be gone
Before I seek the wood that holds
The richest music known?
Too many times have nightingales
Wasted their passion on my sleep,
And brought repentance soon:
But this one night I'll seek the woods,
The nightingale, and moon.
Wasted Hours
William Henry Davies
Suggested Poems
Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.