Happy poems
/ page 152 of 254 /
Golden State
© Frank Bidart
I
To see my father
lying in pink velvet, a rosary
twined around his hands, rouged,
After Thomas Kempis
© George MacDonald
Who follows Jesus shall not walk
In darksome road with danger rife;
But in his heart the Truth will talk,
And on his way will shine the Life.
To S. M. A Young African Painter, On Seeing His Works
© Phillis Wheatley
TO show the lab’ring bosom’s deep intent,
And thought in living characters to paint,
Despair
© Edith Nesbit
SMILE on me, mouth of red--so much too red,
Shine on me, eyes which darkened lashes shade,
Pauline, A Fragment of a Question
© Robert Browning
And I can love nothing-and this dull truth
Has come the last: but sense supplies a love
Encircling me and mingling with my life.
The Camp Of Souls
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
My white canoe, like the silvery air
O'er the River of Death that darkly rolls
When the moons of the world are round and fair,
I paddle back from the "Camp of Souls."
Die Schone Wittwe
© Charles Godfrey Leland
(DE POOTY VIDOW.)
I. VOT DE YANKEE CHAP SUNG.
DAT pooty liddle vidow
Vot ve dosh'nt vish to name,
Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee
© Henry Van Dyke
Joyful, joyful we adore Thee, God of glory, Lord of love,
Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee, hail Thee as the sun above.
Melt the clouds of sin and sadness, drive the dark of doubt away;
Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day.
The Convalescent To Her Physician
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Friend, by whose cancelling hand did Fate forgive
Her debtor, and rescribe her stern award,
To A Young Gentleman In Love. A Tale
© Matthew Prior
From publick Noise and factious Strife,
From all the busie Ills of Life,
Rule Britannia
© James Thomson
When Britain first, at heaven's command,
Arose from out the azure main,
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sung this strain—
"Rule, Britannia, rule the waves;
Britons never will be slaves."
The Yellowhammer's Nest
© John Clare
Just by the wooden brig a bird flew up,
Frit by the cowboy as he scrambled down
A private public space
© Richard Jones
to your party and they don’t come,
they’re too busy tending vaginal
flowers, hating football, walking their golden
and chocolate labs. X gave me a poem
The Sparrow's Fall
© Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
And lifted the gloomy shadows
That overspread my life,
And flooding my home with gladness,
Made me a happy wife.
To Sir George Howland Beaumont, Bart From the South-West Coast Or Cumberland 1811
© William Wordsworth
FAR from our home by Grasmere's quiet Lake,
From the Vale's peace which all her fields partake,
Here on the bleakest point of Cumbria's shore
We sojourn stunned by Ocean's ceaseless roar;
Our Casuarina Tree
© Toru Dutt
LIKE a huge Python, winding round and round
The rugged trunk, indented deep with scars,
The Affliction (I)
© George Herbert
When first thou didst entice to thee my heart,
I thought the service brave;
So many joys I writ down for my part,
Besides what I might have
Out of my stock of natural delights,
Augmented with thy gracious benefits.
