Happy poems
/ page 141 of 254 /
Sonnet For the 14th of February
© Thomas Hood
No popular respect will I omit
To do thee honor on this happy day,
When every loyal lover tasks his wit
His simple truth in studious rhymes to pay,
Wordsworth At Dove Cottage
© Alfred Austin
Wise Wordsworth, to avert your ken,
From half of human fate.
A Baroque Wall-Fountain in the Villa Sciarra
© Lola Ridge
for Dore and Adja
Under the bronze crown
Too big for the head of the stone cherub whose feet
A serpent has begun to eat,
Sweet water brims a cockle and braids down
To the Right Honorable William, Earl of Dartmouth
© Phillis Wheatley
Hail, happy day, when, smiling like the morn,
Fair Freedom rose New-England to adorn:
The Purgatory Of St. Patrick - Act I
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
KING. Yes, from this rocky height,
Nigh to the sun, that with one starry light
Its rugged brow doth crown,
Headlong among the salt waves leaping down
Let him descend who so much pain perceives;
There let him raging die who raging lives.
Pictures From Theocritus
© William Lisle Bowles
Goat-herd, how sweet above the lucid spring
The high pines wave with breezy murmuring!
So sweet thy song, whose music might succeed
To the wild melodies of Pan's own reed.
from The Task, Book VI: The Winter Walk at Noon
© William Cowper
(excerpt)
Thus heav’n-ward all things tend. For all were once
Sometimes, When the Light
© Paul Eluard
Sometimes, when the light strikes at odd angles
and pulls you back into childhood
The Canon Of Aughrim
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
You ask me of English honour, whether your Nation is just?
Justice for us is a word divine, a name we revere,
Alas, no more than a name, a thing laid by in the dust.
The world shall know it again, but not in this month or year.
The Shepherds Calendar - May
© John Clare
Come queen of months in company
Wi all thy merry minstrelsy
The restless cuckoo absent long
And twittering swallows chimney song
The Rich Mans Woes
© Edgar Albert Guest
HE 'S worth a million dollars and you think he should be glad,
Because you want for money you believe he can't be sad;
His name is in the papers nearly every day or so,
If he wants a trip to Europe he can pack his grip and go,
But he's really heavy-hearted and he often wears a frown,
For his daughter contradicts him and his new wife calls him down.
Love: To A Little Girl
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
When we all lie still
Where churchyard pines their funeral vigil keep,
The Father of My Country
© Diane Wakoski
All fathers in Western civilization must have
a military origin. The
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: XLIX
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
I will not tell the secrets of that place.
When Madame Blanche returned to us again
I was kneeling there, while Esther kissed my face
And dried and comforted my tears. O vain
Living: After A Death
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Only to me, my love, only to me.
This cavern underneath the moaning sea;
This long, long life that I alone must tread,
To whom the living seem most like the dead,--
Thou wilt be safe out on the happy shore:
He who in God lives, liveth evermore.
Little Nell
© Louisa May Alcott
GLEAMING through the silent church-yard,
Winter sunlight seemed to shed
When Mother Cooked With Wood
© Edgar Albert Guest
I do not quarrel with the gas,
Our modern range is fine,
