Happy poems

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A Legend Of Brittany - Part First

To A Bee

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

SMALL epicurean, would to heaven that I
Could borrow your lithe body and swift wing
To speed, a lightning atom through the sky,
The blithest courier on the winds of spring!

SPRING, pretty Spring, what treasure do you bring to me?
Green grass and buttercups, cherry-bloom and may?
Sunshine to be glad with me, and little birds to sing to me?
Warm nests to call me along the woodland way?

To Mrs. Caesar, At The Speaker's Lodgings At Bath.

© Mary Barber

When lately you acquitted me,
With Carteret I din'd;
And, in Return, (tho' grievous) thee
To Onslow I resign'd.

Wild Bees

© John Clare

These children of the sun which summer brings

As pastoral minstrels in her merry train

A Coming Reunion

© Edgar Albert Guest

Jims made good in the world out there, an' Kate has a man that's true,
No better, of course, than she deserves; she's rich, but she's happy, too;
Fred is manager, full-fledged nowhe's boss of a big concern
An' I lose my breath when I think sometimes of the money that he can earn;
Cleverthe word don't mean enough to tell what they really are,
Clever, an' honest an' good an' kindif you doubt me, ask their Ma.

To Sara

© Joseph Rodman Drake

I.

ONE happy year has fled, Sall,

A Forsaken Lady To Her False Servant That Is Disdained By His New Mistriss

© Richard Lovelace

Thou most unjust, that really dust know,
And feelst thyselfe the flames I burne in. Oh!
How can you beg to be set loose from that
Consuming stake you binde another at?

Hudibras - The Lady's Answer to The Knight

© Samuel Butler

We are your guardians, that increase
Or waste your fortunes how we please;
And, as you humour us, can deal
In all your matters, ill or well.

The Regret

© Arthur Symons

It seems to me, dearest, if you were dead.

And thought returned to me after the tears,

Evangeline: Part The First. II.

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

NOW had the season returned, when the nights grow colder and longer,

And the retreating sun the sign of the Scorpion enters.

Written For My Son, Upon Lady Santry's Coming To School, To See Her Son, And Getting The Scholars A

© Mary Barber

So Ceres, lovely and divine,
Eager to see her Proserpine,
Blessing the Nations as she pass'd,
Reach'd the fell Tyrant's Court at last;

From The Sea

All beauty calls you to me, and you seem,
Past twice a thousand miles of shifting sea,
To reach me. You are as the wind I breathe
Here on the ship's sun-smitten topmost deck,

The Real Successes

You think that the failures are many,

You think the successes are few,

Merry Christmas And Happy New Year!

Little cullud Rastus come a-skippin down de street,

A-smilin and a-grinnin at every one he meet;

Repining

She sat alway thro' the long day
Spinning the weary thread away;
And ever said in undertone:
'Come, that I be no more alone.'

Epilogue

© Eugene Field

The day is done; and, lo! the shades
Melt 'neath Diana's mellow grace.
Hark, how those deep, designing maids
Feign terror in this sylvan place!
Come, friends, it's time that we should go;
We're honest married folk, you know.