This life is sweetest; in this wood
I hear no children cry for food;
I see no woman, white with care;
No man, with muscled wasting here.
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Davies is feeling as every poets feel, he writes
' No daubt it is selfish thing,
to fly from human sufferings'
I say, 'But some they never feel
and never bother to feel
so they continue in life
as if no humans exists near.'
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Davies is feeling as every poets feel, he writes ' No daubt it is selfish thing, to fly from human sufferings' I say, 'But some they never feel and never bother to feel so they continue in life as if no humans exists near.'