Happy poems
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A Dog Has Died
© Pablo Neruda
My dog has died.
I buried him in the garden
next to a rusted old machine.
Autumn Wealth
© Kristijonas Donelaitis
Of course, there is no lack of faithful Christians ,too.
Most of Lithuanians are men of good character;
They love their families, obey the will of God.
Each day live saintly lives, steer clear of all misdeeds,
And rule their modest homes with kind parental care.
A Womans Sonnets: IX
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
The day draws nigh, methinks, when I could stay
Calm in thy presence with no dream of ill,
When, having put all earthliness away,
I could be near thee, touching thee, and still
The Themes
© Millosh Gjergj Nikolla
On the pallid faces of fallen women
Loitering in doorways to sell themselves,
On their faces a tragic poem is carved
In tears and grief that rise to the heavens,
The Happy Little Cripple
© James Whitcomb Riley
I'm thist a little cripple boy, an' never goin' to grow
An' get a great big man at all!--'cause Aunty told me so.
Change
© William Dean Howells
SOMETIMES, when after spirited debate
Of letters or affairs, in thought I go
The Jolly Company
© Rupert Brooke
The stars, a jolly company,
I envied, straying late and lonely;
And cried upon their revelry:
"O white companionship! You only
In love, in faith unbroken dwell,
Friends radiant and inseparable!"
Anhelli - Chapter 7
© Juliusz Slowacki
And the Shaman said : "Lo, now we shall show no more miracles,
nor the power of God that is in us, but we shall weep,
for we have come unto people who see not the sun.
On Leaping Over the Moon
© Thomas Traherne
As much as others thought themselves to lie
Beneath the moon, so much more high
Himself he thought to fly
Above the starry sky,
As that he spied
Below the tide.
Elegy XXI. Taking a View of the Country From His Retirement
© William Shenstone
Thus Damon sung-What though unknown to praise,
Umbrageous coverts hide my Muse and me,
Or mid the rural shepherds flow my days?
Amid the rural shepherds, I am free.
Woman!
© George Crabbe
Thus in extremes of cold and heat,
Where wandering man may trace his kind;
Wherever grief and want retreat,
In Woman they compassion find;
She makes the female breast her seat,
And dictates mercy to the mind.
The White Doe Of Rylstone, Or, The Fate Of The Nortons - Canto Seventh
© William Wordsworth
"Powers there are
That touch each other to the quick--in modes
Which the gross world no sense hath to perceive,
No soul to dream of."
The White Doe Of Rylstone, Or, The Fate Of The Nortons - Canto First
© William Wordsworth
FROM Bolton's old monastic tower
The bells ring loud with gladsome power;
The sun shines bright; the fields are gay
With people in their best array
Realities
© Kenneth Slessor
(To the etchings of Norman Lindsay)
Now the statues lean over each to each, and sing,
Gravely in warm plaster turning; the hedges are dark.
The trees come suddenly to flower with moonlight,
A Chippewa Legend
© James Russell Lowell
The old Chief, feeling now wellnigh his end,
Called his two eldest children to his side,
To a Friend
© William Lisle Bowles
Go, then, and join the murmuring city's throng!
Me thou dost leave to solitude and tears;
Song Of Going
© Katharine Tynan
I would not like to live to be very old,
To be stripped cold and bare
Of all my leafage that was green and gold
In the delicious air.
Green Things Growing
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
O the green things growing, the green things growing,
The faint sweet smell of the green things growing!
I should like to live, whether I smile or grieve,
Just to watch the happy life of my green things growing.
The Golden Legend: II. A Farm In The Odenwald
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Elsie._ Here are flowers for you,
But they are not all for you.
Some of them are for the Virgin
And for Saint Cecilia.
