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Wild Oats
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| Wild Oats written by William Henry Davies |
| From "The Hour of Magic", 1922 |
How slowly moves the snail, that builds
A silver street so fine and long:
I move as slowly, but I leave
Behind me not one breath of song.
Dumb as a moulting bird am I,
I go to bed when children do,
My ale but two half-pints a day,
And to one woman I am true.
Oh! what a life, how flat and stale -
How dull, monotonous and slow!
Can I sing songs in times so dead -
Are there no more wild oats to sow?
| This work is in the public domain in countries where the copyright term is the author's life plus 70 years or less. |
