Happy poems

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The Princess: Tears, Idle Tears

© Alfred Tennyson

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.

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Playthings

© Anselm Hollo

Child, how happy you are sitting in the dust, playing with a broken twig all the morning.


I smile at your play with that little bit of a broken twig.

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A Prayer for My Daughter

© William Butler Yeats

Once more the storm is howling, and half hid 

Under this cradle-hood and coverlid 

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Sad Wine (I)

© Cesare Pavese

It was beautiful how he cried as he told it,
the way a drunk cries, his whole body to it,
and he hung on my shoulder saying, Between us,
always respect, and there I was, shaking with cold,
wanting to leave, and helping him walk.

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Love's Alchemy

© John Donne

Some that have deeper digg'd love's mine than I,

Say, where his centric happiness doth lie;

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Swordfish

© Andrew Hudgins

My fingertips marveled at the silvery shimmer,


already less silver, less shimmery than when it lived.

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The Obligation to Be Happy

© Linda Pastan

It is more onerous

than the rites of beauty

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The Cab Driver Who Ripped Me Off

© Cornelius Eady

That’s right, said the cab driver,

Turning the corner to the 

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Amoretti I: Happy ye leaves when as those lilly hands

© Edmund Spenser

Happy ye leaves when as those lilly hands,


Which hold my life in their dead doing might

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Nuns Fret Not at Their Convent’s Narrow Room

© André Breton

Nuns fret not at their convent’s narrow room;

And hermits are contented with their cells;

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To His Mistress Going to Bed

© John Donne

Come, Madam, come, all rest my powers defy,

Until I labour, I in labour lie.

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The Skylark

© John Clare

The rolls and harrows lie at rest beside


The battered road; and spreading far and wide

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The Herdsman

© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa

I'm herdsman of a flock.
The sheep are my thoughts
And my thoughts are all sensations.
I think with my eyes and my ears
And my hands and feet
And nostrils and mouth.

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A Visit from St. Nicholas

© Clement Clarke Moore

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

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Soonest Mended

© John Ashbery

Barely tolerated, living on the margin

In our technological society, we were always having to be rescued 

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Eclogue the Second: HASSAN; or, the Camel-driver.

© William Taylor Collins

  Ah! little thought I of the blasting wind,
The thirst or pinching hunger that I find!
Bethink thee, Hassan, where shall thirst assuage,
When fails this cruise, his unrelenting rage?
Soon shall this scrip its precious load resign;
Then what but tears and hunger shall be thine?

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The Stream's Secret

© Dante Gabriel Rossetti

 What thing unto mine ear
 Wouldst thou convey,—what secret thing,
O wandering water ever whispering?
 Surely thy speech shall be of her.
Thou water, O thou whispering wanderer,
 What message dost thou bring?

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Paradise Lost: Book X

© Patrick Kavanagh

So having said, he thus to Eve in few:
"Say, Woman, what is this which thou hast done?"
To whom sad Eve, with shame nigh overwhelm'd,
Confessing soon, yet not before her Judge
Bold or loquacious, thus abash'd replied,
"The Serpent me beguil'd, and I did eat."