Happiness poems
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Paradise Lost : Book VIII.
© John Milton
The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear
So charming left his voice, that he a while
The Lanes Of Apple Bloom
© Edgar Albert Guest
DOWN the lanes of apple bloom, we are treading once again,
Down the pathways rosy red trip the women-folk and men.
Love and laughter lead us on, light of heart as children gay,
June is smiling on us now, bidding us to romp and play.
Enoch Arden
© Alfred Tennyson
At length she spoke `O Enoch, you are wise;
And yet for all your wisdom well know I
That I shall look upon your face no more.'
Lullaby
© Dorothy Parker
Sleep, pretty lady, the night is enfolding you;
Drift, and so lightly, on crystalline streams.
The Flood of Years
© William Cullen Bryant
A MIGHTY Hand, from an exhaustless Urn,
Pours forth the never-ending Flood of Years,
The Shepherd's Week : Friday; or, The Dirge
© John Gay
Grubbinol.
Ah Bumkinet! since thou from hence wert gone,
From these sad plains all merriment is flown;
Should I reveal my grief 'twould spoil thy cheer,
And make thine eye o'erflow with many a tear.
Elegy Written At Hotwells, Bristol
© William Lisle Bowles
The morning wakes in shadowy mantle gray,
The darksome woods their glimmering skirts unfold,
Prone from the cliff the falcon wheels her way,
And long and loud the bell's slow chime is tolled.
At The Birth Of An Age
© Robinson Jeffers
V
GUDRUN (standing this side of the closing curtains; 'with Chrysothemis.
Carling has left her, going
The Mother
© Nettie Palmer
IN the sorrow and the terror of the nations,
In a world shaken through by lamentations,
To the Moon [Late Version]
© Charles Harpur
With musing mind I watch thee steal
Above those envious clouds that hid
Shakuntala Act VII (Final Act)
© Kalidasa
ACT VII
King Dushyant with Matali in the chariot of Indra (king of gods in heaven and also god of thunder), supposed to be above the clouds.
King Dushyant: I am sensible, O Matali, that, for having executed the commission which Indra gave me, I deserved not such a profusion of honours.
Eight Years Old
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
SUN, whom the faltering snow-cloud fears,
Rise, let the time of year be May,
A Pastoral
© George Essex Evans
Nature feels the touch of noon;
Not a rustle stirs the grass;
Not a shadow flecks the sky,
Save the brown hawk hovering nigh;
Not a ripple dims the glass
Of the wide lagoon.
Riding To Town
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
WHEN labor is light and the morning is fair,
I find it a pleasure beyond all compare
An Epistle To A Friend
© Samuel Rogers
When, with a Reaumur's skill, thy curious mind
Has class'd the insect-tribes of human-kind,
Each with its busy hum, or gilded wing,
Its subtle, web-work, or its venom'd sting;
Love: An Elegy
© Mark Akenside
At last the visionary scenes decay,
My eyes, exulting, bless the new-born day,
Whose faithful beams detect the dangerous road
In which my heedless feet securely trod,
And strip the phantoms of their lying charms
That lur'd my soul from Wisdom's peaceful arms.
Alfred. Book V.
© Henry James Pye
As o'er the tented field the squadrons spread,
Stretch'd on the turf the hardy soldier's bed;
While the strong mound, and warder's careful eyes,
Protect the midnight camp from quick surprise,
A voice, in hollow murmurs from the plain,
Attracts the notice of the wakeful train.
Book Fourteenth [conclusion]
© William Wordsworth
In one of those excursions (may they ne'er
Fade from remembrance!) through the Northern tracts
