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John Davidson

I lived from 1857-1909. I was from Scotland, and am in the English category.

Poet, translator, novelist, and man of letters, John Davidson spent the first part of his life as a teacher in Greenock, Glasgow, Perth, Crieff, and other places.

In 1884 he married Margaret Macarthur, who bore him two sons.
In 1899 he moved to London and earned a living by journalism. His second and third volumes of verse, Fleet Street Eclogues (1893), proved popular, established his reputation, and earned the respect of T. S. Eliot, who wrote a preface to a selection of Davidson's poems in 1961 edited by Maurice Lindsay.

Little after these books, whether poetry, novels, or translations, did well, and Davidson moved depended on his friends for support

until getting a Civil List pension in 1906 and moving to Penzance a year later.

The last half of his literary career was devoted to unsuccessful philosophical poems and tragedies promoting a new world order. Depressed and ill, Davidson committed suicide March 23, 1909, but his body was only found on the seashore months later. He was buried at sea on September 21, 1909.


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  • A Ballad Of Hell
    She marched across the floor of hell;
    And all the damned stood up to see.
    120 lines, 2 comments
  • Imagination
    There is a dish to hold the sea,
    A brazier to contain the sun,
    24 lines, 1 comment
  • In Romney Marsh
    As I went down to Dymchurch Wall,
    I heard the South sing o'er the land
    28 lines
  • A Loafer
    I hang about the streets all day,
    At night I hang about;
    42 lines
  • Battle
    The war of words is done;
    The red-lipped cannon speak;
    19 lines, 1 comment
  • A Runnable Stag
    When the pods went pop on the broom, green broom,
        And apples began to be golden-skinned,
    98 lines, 1 comment
  • War Song
    In anguish we uplift
    A new unhallowed song:
    69 lines, 1 comment
  • Snow
    'Who affirms that crystals are alive?'
    I affirm it, let who will deny:
    32 lines
  • Song
    THE boat is chafing at our long delay,
    And we must leave too soon
    8 lines
  • Thirty Bob a Week
    I couldn't touch a stop and turn a screw,
    And set the blooming world a-work for me,
    96 lines
1 - 10 of 14  Show all by written, popularity, title, first line

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