Happy poems
/ page 183 of 254 /The Shepheardes Calender: June
© Edmund Spenser
June: AEgloga Sexta. HOBBINOL & COLIN Cloute.
HOBBINOL.
LO! Collin, here the place, whose pleasaunt syte
From other shades hath weand my wandring mynde.
Sonnet 57: "Being your slave what should I do but tend..."
© William Shakespeare
Being your slave what should I do but tend,
Upon the hours, and times of your desire?
"Sed Nos Qui Vivimus"
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
How beautiful is life--the physical joy of sense and breathing;
The glory of the world which has found speech and speaks to us;
The robe which summer throws in June round the white bones of winter;
The new birth of each day, itself a life, a world, a sun!
Psychological Warfare
© Henry Reed
Be that as it may, some time in the very near future,
We are to expect Invasion… and invasion not from the sea.
Vast numbers of troops will be dropped, probably from above,
Superbly equipped, determined and capable; and this above all,
Remember: they will be very brave men, and chosen as such.
Husbands Overseas
© Lloyd Roberts
Each morning they sit down to their little bites of bread,
To six warm bowls of porridge and a broken mug or two.
And each simple soul is happy and each hungry mouth is fed
Then why should she be smiling as the weary-hearted do?
The Root
© Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
Deep, Love, yea, very deep.
And in the dark exiled,
I have no sense of light but still to creep
And know the breast, but not the eyes. Thy child
Saw ne'er his mother near, nor if she smiled;
But only feels her weep.
Ruth
© William Wordsworth
WHEN Ruth was left half desolate,
Her Father took another Mate;
And Ruth, not seven years old,
A slighted child, at her own will
Went wandering over dale and hill,
In thoughtless freedom, bold.
In Vain
© Rose Terry Cooke
PUT every tiny robe away!
The stitches all were set with tears,
Slow, tender drops of joys; to-day
Their rain would wither hopes or fears:
Bitter enough to daunt the moth
That longs to fret this dainty cloth.
The Young Letter Writer
© Charles Lamb
Dear Sir, Dear Madam, or Dear Friend,
With ease are written at the top;
When those two happy words are penned,
A youthful writer oft will stop,
Eclogue 6: To Varus
© Publius Vergilius Maro
First my Thalia stooped in sportive mood
To Syracusan strains, nor blushed within
David
© Thomas Parnell
When e'er his flocks the lovely shepherd drove
To neighb'ring waters, to the neighb'ring grove;
To Jordan's flood refresh'd by cooling wind,
Or Cedron's brook to mossy banks confin'd,
In easy notes and guise of lowly swain,
'Twas thus he charm'd and taught the listning train.
Geraldine
© Henry Kendall
I think we lived a loftier life through hours of Long Ago,
For in the largened evening earth our spirits seemed to grow.
Well, that has passed, and here I stand, upon a lonely place,
While Night is stealing round the land, like Time across my face;
But I can calmly recollect our shadowy parting scene,
And swooning thoughts that had no voice no utterance, Geraldine.
George Edmunds' Song
© Charles Dickens
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around he here;
Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!
The Columbiad: Book I
© Joel Barlow
Ah, lend thy friendly shroud to veil my sight,
That these pain'd eyes may dread no more the light;
These welcome shades shall close my instant doom,
And this drear mansion moulder to a tornb.
The Angel of Life
© Richard Rowe
LIFES Angel watched a happy child at play,
Wreathing the riches of the blushing May:
Suffer Little Children, And Forbid Them Not, To Come Unto Me
© Charles Lamb
To Jesus our Saviour some parents presented
Their children-what fears and what hopes they must feel!
When this the disciples would fain have prevented,
Our Saviour reproved their unseasonable zeal.
The Legend Of St. Sophia Of Kioff
© William Makepeace Thackeray
A worthy priest he was and a stout
You've seldom looked on such a one;
For, though he fasted thrice in a week,
Yet nevertheless his skin was sleek;
His waist it spanned two yards about
And he weighed a score of stone.
The Sleepers
© Walt Whitman
I WANDER all night in my vision,
Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly stepping and
stopping,
Bending with open eyes over the shut eyes of sleepers,
Wandering and confused, lost to myself, ill-assorted, contradictory,
Pausing, gazing, bending, and stopping.