Joy Supreme
W. H. Davies
1871 to 1940
Track 1
Reconstruct the poem by dragging each line into its correct position. Your goal is to reassemble the original poem as accurately as possible. As you move the lines, you'll see whether your arrangement is correct, helping you explore the poem's flow and meaning. You can also print out the jumbled poem to cut up and reassemble in the classroom. Either way, take your time, enjoy the process, and discover how the poet's words come together to create something truly beautiful.
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The birds are pirates of her notes,
Then think I of her head's fine stuff,
The miser has his joy, with gold
And miser's know not that delight.
When I set eyes on ripe, red plums
Finer than gossamer's, I swear.
Her soft warm bosom swell on mine.
Make silent billows in the air,
And all the other birds are mute.
Captains that own their ships can boast
Beneath his pillow in the night;
Such are her lips, which I would kiss,
But I shall lie near her, and feel
When I behold proud gossamer
And still would keep before my sight.
That seem a sin and shame to bite,
Their joy to feel the rolling brine—
The blossoms steal her face's light;
In autumn, when the air is still,
Her voice can shame rain-pelted leaves;
Young robin has no notes as sweet
To take her glances for the night.
My head shall lie on soft warm hair,
The stars in ambush lie all day,
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