Welcome back to The Daily Poem. I'm David Kern, and today's Thursday, December 17, 2020.

Today's poem is by a Welsh poet named William Henry Davies, usually goes by W.H. Davies. He lived

from 1871 to 1940. He's a very interesting poet because his life was fascinating and not very much in keeping

with most of the poets that we often hear from.

He lives, he was homeless.

He lived part of his time as a hobo, both in the UK and here in the U.S.

And to borrow the phrasing, or the, at least the idea from Wikipedia, a great resource,

he still became one of the most popular poets of his time.

So he's a very interesting poet to look into if you want to learn more about his life.

And again, it's W.H. Davies, just a Wikipedia search. It was a good start, and then that'll

give you some places to go to dig a little bit deeper if you're interested.

But the poem that I'm going to read today, I'm getting out of a poetry collection called a nature poem for every night of the year.

It's a really interesting, a beautiful book, edited by Jane McMorland Hunter, a nature poem for every night of the year and a collection for every day of the year.

It's just, you know, poems without commentary and designed in a really beautiful way.

So if you hear a little bit of rustling here, it's because I'm making sure that I have my book

opened to that page.

But here it is, Winter's Beauty by W.H. Davies.

Is it not fine to walk in spring

when leaves are born and hear birds sing?

And when they lose their singing powers in summer,

watch the bees at flowers.

Is it not fine when summer is passed

...