Happiness poems
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The Pixy and the Grocer
© Hans Christian Andersen
How bright the room seemed! It was as if a ray of light came from the book, a luminous tree whose branches spread out across the ceiling. The leaves were fresh and green and on each branch flowers bloomed and fruit hung. The flowers were faces of young maidens, some with radiant dark eyes and other(s) with clear blue ones. The fruits were sparkling stars. All the while the most beautiful music could be heard.
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Lines. "Upon the altar of my life there lies"
© Frances Anne Kemble
Upon the altar of my life there lies
A costly offering: its price I know;
On The Death Of A Friend's Child
© James Russell Lowell
Death never came so nigh to me before,
Nor showed me his mild face: oft had I mused
Hurry Up Please It's Time
© Anne Sexton
What is death, I ask.
What is life, you ask.
I give them both my buttocks,
my two wheels rolling off toward Nirvana.
May, 1917
© John Jay Chapman
THE earth is damp: in everything
I taste the bitter breath of pallid spring.
Elegy to the Memory of Richard Boyle, Esq.
© Mary Darby Robinson
NEAR yon bleak mountain's dizzy height,
That hangs o'er AVON's silent wave;
By the pale Crescent's glimm'ring light,
I sought LORENZO's lonely grave.
The Ring And The Book - Chapter VIII - Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis
© Robert Browning
(Virgil, now, should not be too difficult
To Cinoncino,say the early books . . .
Pen, truce to further gambols! Poscimur!)
The Needless Alarm. A Tale
© William Cowper
Moral
Beware of desperate steps. The darkest day,
Live till to-morrow, will have passd away.
To The Earl Of Clare
© George Gordon Byron
The recollectlon seems alone
Dearer than all the joys I've known,
When distant far from you:
Though pain, 'tis still a pleasing pain,
To trace those days and hours again,
And sigh again, adieu!
A Voice From The Factories
© Caroline Norton
WHEN fallen man from Paradise was driven,
Forth to a world of labour, death, and care;
Still, of his native Eden, bounteous Heaven
Resolved one brief memorial to spare,
Solomon on the Vanity of the World, A Poem. In Three Books. - Pleasure. Book II.
© Matthew Prior
My full design with vast expense achieved,
I came, beheld, admired, reflected, grieved:
I chid the folly of my thoughtless haste,
For, the work perfected, the joy was past.
Memorial Verses
© Matthew Arnold
Goethe in Weimar sleeps, and Greece,
Long since, saw Byron's struggle cease.
But one such death remain'd to come;
The last poetic voice is dumb--
We stand to-day by Wordsworth's tomb.
Consolation
© Matthew Arnold
Mist clogs the sunshine.
Smoky dwarf houses
Hem me round everywhere;
A vague dejection
Weighs down my soul.
The Joys Of Home
© Edgar Albert Guest
Curling smoke from a chimney low,
And only a few more steps to go,
Faces pressed at a window pane
Watching for someone to come again,
And I am the someone they wait to see--
These are the joys life gives to me.
Natalias Resurrection: Sonnet XVII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Nor yet in vain. For to him through the rout
Behold, 'mid herald whispers of her name
And laughing eyes and welcome hands held out,
Natalia's self behind her husband came,
The Bibliomaniac's Bride
© Eugene Field
The women-folk are like to books,--
Most pleasing to the eye,
Whereon if anybody looks
He feels disposed to buy.
Picnic-time
© Eugene Field
It's June ag'in, an' in my soul I feel the fillin' joy
That's sure to come this time o' year to every little boy;
For, every June, the Sunday-schools at picnics may be seen,
Where "fields beyont the swellin' floods stand dressed in livin' green";
Paradise Lost : Book XI.
© John Milton
Thus they, in lowliest plight, repentant stood
Praying; for from the mercy-seat above
The Coming Of Arthur
© Alfred Tennyson
Leodogran, the King of Cameliard,
Had one fair daughter, and none other child;
And she was the fairest of all flesh on earth,
Guinevere, and in her his one delight.
