No more poems will be set to music
From 4 November 2026 I am not setting any more poems to music. Voting is closed. This poem will stay as text until the garden closes at midnight on 20 January 2028.
They hear the bell of midnight toll,
And shiver in their flesh and soul;
They lie on hard, cold wood or stone,
Iron, and ache in every bone;
They hate the night: they see no eyes
Of loved ones in the starlit skies.
They see the cold, dark water near;
They dare not take long looks for fear
They'll fall like those poor birds that see
A snake's eyes staring at their tree.
Some of them laugh, half-mad; and some
All through the chilly night are dumb;
Like poor, weak infants some converse,
And cough like giants, deep and hoarse.
This poem will stay as text
From 4 November 2026 I am not setting any more poems to music. Voting is closed. This poem will stay as text until the garden closes at midnight on 20 January 2028.
“It is on this rainy day that one sees those little kindnesses which are only seen among the very poor: one who has not sufficient for himself assisting some other who has nothing.”
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Events during W. H. Davies's lifetime
5,334 curated events in our library overlapped W. H. Davies's life (3 July 1871 – 26 September 1940 (~69)) .
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15 events in our library relate directly to W. H. Davies.
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