Happy poems
/ page 13 of 254 /To Maecenas
© Phillis Wheatley
Not you, my friend, these plaintive strains become,
Not you, whose bosom is the Muses home;
When they from tow'ring Helicon retire,
They fan in you the bright immortal fire,
But I less happy, cannot raise the song,
The fault'ring music dies upon my tongue.
Satyr X. Colin
© Thomas Parnell
Divine Orinda now my labours crown
& if my voice or harp have glory won
Thine was the influence thine the glory be
Thee Colin loves & loves thy sex for thee
Week-End
© Harold Monro
I
The train! The twleve o'clock for paradise.
Hurry, or it will try to creep away.
Out in the country every one is wise:
Peruvian Tales: Alzira, Tale II
© Helen Maria Williams
PIZARRO lands with the Forces-His meeting with ATALIBA -Its un-
happy consequences-ZORAI dies-ATALIBA imprisoned, and strangled
-Despair of ALZIRA .
Hymn XVI: Happy the Souls That First Believed
© Charles Wesley
Happy the souls that first believed,
To Jesus and each other cleaved,
Joined by the unction from above
In mystic fellowship of love.
How Still, How Happy!
© Emily Jane Brontë
How still, how happy! Those are words
That once would scarce agree together;
I loved the plashing of the surge,
The changing heaven the breezy weather,
To My Godchild-Francis M. W. M.
© Francis Thompson
This labouring, vast, Tellurian galleon,
Riding at anchor off the orient sun,
Squire Hawkins's Story
© James Whitcomb Riley
He sized it all; and Patience laid
Her hand in John's, and looked afraid,
And waited. And a stiller set
O' folks, I KNOW, you never met
In any court room, where with dread
They wait to hear a verdick read.
At the Long Sault: May, 1660
© Archibald Lampman
All night by the foot of the mountain
The little town lieth at rest,
The sentries are peacefully pacing;
And neither from East nor from West
Pharsalia - Book V: The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
While soldier thus and chief,
In doubtful sort, against their hidden fate
Devised their counsel, Appius alone
Feared for the chances of the war, and sought
Through Phoebus' ancient oracle to break
The silence of the gods and know the end.
The Muses Threnodie: Eighth Muse
© Henry Adamson
What blooming banks, sweet Earn, or fairest Tay,
Or Almond doth embrace! These many a day
The Trap
© Robinson Jeffers
I am not well civilized, really alien here: trust me not.
I can understand the guns and the airplanes,
The other conveniences leave me cold.
Sonnet To Mrs. Jameson,
© Frances Anne Kemble
WHO WROTE UNDER MY LIKENESS AS JULIET, "LIETI GIORNI E FELICE."
Whence should they come, lady! those happy days
The Captive
© James Russell Lowell
It was past the hour of trysting,
But she lingered for him still;
Like a child, the eager streamlet
Leaped and laughed adown the hill,
Happy to be free at twilight
From its toiling at the mill.
An Ode Appropriate To A Festivity
© Confucius
The dew lies heavy all around,
Nor, till the sun shines, leaves the ground.
Far into night we feasting sit;
We drink, and none his place may quit.
On Burning Some Old Letters
© James Russell Lowell
Rarest woods were coarse and rough,
Sweetest spice not sweet enough,
Too impure all earthly fire
For this sacred funeral-pyre;
These rich relics must suffice
For their own dear sacrifice.
A Lover's Quarrel Among the Fairies
© William Butler Yeats
Male Fairies: Do not fear us, earthly maid!
We will lead you hand in hand
By the willows in the glade,
By the gorse on the high land,
Economy, A Rhapsody, Addressed to Young Poets
© William Shenstone
Insanis; omnes gelidis quaecunqne lacernis
Sunt tibi, Nasones Virgiliosque vides. ~Mart.
Imitation.
--Thou know'st not what thou say'st;
In garments that scarce fence them from the cold
Our Ovids and our Virgils you behold.
Here And There
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
HERE the warm sunshine fills
Like wine of gods the deepening, cup-shaped dells,
Embossed with marvellous flowers; the happy rills
Roam through the autumnal fields whose rich increase
The Secret Whisky Cure
© Henry Lawson
Twas a common sordid marriage, and theres little new to tell
Save the pub to him was Heaven and his own home was a hell:
With the office in between thempurgatory to be sure
And, as far as Jones could make outwell, there wasnt any cure.