Oh, Sweet Content!

by William Henry Davies (1871-1940)

Oh, sweet content, that turns the labourer's sweatTo tears of joy, and shines the roughest face;How often have I sought you high and low,And found you still in some lone quiet place;

Here, in my room, when full of happy dreams,With no life heard beyond that merry soundOf moths that on my lighted ceiling kissTheir shadows as they dance and dance around;

Or in a garden, on a summer's night,When I have seen the dark and solemn airBlink with the blind bats' wings, and heaven's bright faceTwitch with the stars that shine in thousands there.