Happy poems
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An Angel in the House
© James Henry Leigh Hunt
How sweet it were, if without feeble fright,
Or dying of the dreadful beauteous sight,
An angel came to us, and we could bear
To see him issue from the silent air
Like A Laverock In The Lift
© Jean Ingelow
It's we two, it's we two, it's we two for aye,
All the world, and we two, and Heaven be our stay!
Like a laverock in the lift, sing, O bonny bride!
All the world was Adam once, with Eve by his side.
The Negro Boy
© James Henry Leigh Hunt
These tatter'd clothes, this ice-cold breast
By Winter harden'd into steel,
These eyes, that know not soothing rest,
But speak the half of what I feel!
Long, long, I never new one joy,
The little wand'ring Negro-boy!
The Spring In Ireland: 1916
© James Brunton Stephens
In other lands they may,
With public joy or dole along the way,
With pomp and pageantry and loud lament
Of drums and trumpets, and with merriment
Of grateful hearts, lead into rest and sted
The nation's dead.
The Happiest Girl in the World
© Augusta Davies Webster
A week ago; only a little week:
it seems so much much longer, though that day
is every morning still my yesterday;
as all my life 'twill be my yesterday,
for all my life is morrow to my love.
Oh fortunate morrow! Oh sweet happy love!
A Ballad of John Silver
© John Masefield
We were schooner-rigged and rakish,
with a long and lissome hull,
And we flew the pretty colours of the crossbones and the skull;
We'd a big black Jolly Roger flapping grimly at the fore,
And we sailed the Spanish Water in the happy days of yore.
Pain
© Edward Thomas
The Man that hath great griefs I pity not;
Tis something to be great
In any wise, and hint the larger state,
Though but in shadow of a shade, God wot!
Sonnets To Europa
© Vlanes (Vladislav Nekliaev)
Frost apple on a knotted whirling bough
of dark becoming where it cannot be.
So much both for the soil and for the tree,
so much for things that are becoming now.
Captain Who Voyages No More
© Vlanes (Vladislav Nekliaev)
Troubled slumbering of things, the curtain blown aside
by the gush of the salty wind, the advent of the tide
mixing grains of dry sand, the disjoined palimpsest,
the thin wing beating under the chest, restlessly,
the splinters of far-off vessels stuck in the sea,
not entering the harbour, as if they have something to hide.
Move Eastward, Happy Earth
© Alfred Tennyson
Ah, bear me with thee, lightly borne,
Dip forward under starry light,
And move me to my marriage-morn,
And round again to happy night.
The Passing Of Arthur
© Alfred Tennyson
That story which the bold Sir Bedivere,
First made and latest left of all the knights,
Told, when the man was no more than a voice
In the white winter of his age, to those
With whom he dwelt, new faces, other minds.
Satyr IX. The State Of Love Imitated Fm An Elegy Of Mons:r Desportes
© Thomas Parnell
Hence lett us hence with Just abhorrence go
for ill their happyness these mortalls know
Who slight the mighty favours I bestow
Her Memories
© Augusta Davies Webster
NOT by her grave: thither I bid them take
Fresh garlands of the flowers that pleased her best,
Twenty-Two Rhymes To Left-Prime-Minister Wei
© Du Fu
Boys in fancy clothes never starve,
but Confucian scholars often find their lives in ruin.
Si Descendero In Infernum, Ades
© James Russell Lowell
O wandering dim on the extremest edge
Of God's bright providence, whose spirits sigh
Dancing On The Hill-Tops
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Dancing on the hill-tops,
Singing in the valleys,
April
© Rémy Belleau
April, pride of woodland ways,
Of glad days,
April, bringing hope of prime,
To the young flowers that beneath
Their bud sheath
Are guarded in their tender time;
