Happy poems
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To Songs At the Marriage Of The Lord Fauconberg And The Lady Mary Cromwell
© Andrew Marvell
Endymion
Cynthia, O Cynthia, turn thine Ear,
nor scorn Endymions plaints to hear.
As we our Flocks, so you command
The fleecy Clouds with silver wand.
Fleckno, an English Priest at Rome
© Andrew Marvell
Oblig'd by frequent visits of this man,
Whom as Priest, Poet, and Musician,
I for some branch of Melchizedeck took,
(Though he derives himself from my Lord Brooke)
The Death of Cromwell
© Andrew Marvell
That Providence which had so long the care
Of Cromwell's head, and numbered every hair,
Now in itself (the glass where all appears)
Had seen the period of his golden years:
And thenceforh only did attend to trace
What death might least so fair a life deface.
Cromwell's Return
© Andrew Marvell
An Horatian Ode upon Cromwell's Return From IrelandThe forward youth that would appear
Must now forsake his muses dear,
Nor in the shadows sing,
His numbers languishing.
The First Anniversary Of The Government Under O.C.
© Andrew Marvell
Like the vain Curlings of the Watry maze,
Which in smooth streams a sinking Weight does raise;
So Man, declining alwayes, disappears.
In the Weak Circles of increasing Years;
Sordello: Book the Fourth
© Robert Browning
Meantime Ferrara lay in rueful case;
The lady-city, for whose sole embrace
The Picture Of Little T.C. In A Prospect Of Flowers
© Andrew Marvell
See with what simplicity
This Nimph begins her golden daies!
In the green Grass she loves to lie,
And there with her fair Aspect tames
Blake's Victory
© Andrew Marvell
The Peak's proud height the Spaniards all admire,
Yet in their breasts carry a pride much high'r.
Only to this vast hill a power is given,
At once both to inhabit earth and heaven.
But this stupendous prospect did not near,
Make them admire, so much as they did fear.
A Poem Upon The Death Of O.C.
© Andrew Marvell
That Providence which had so long the care
Of Cromwell's head, and numbred ev'ry hair,
Now in its self (the Glass where all appears)
Had seen the period of his golden Years:
From the Commemoration Ode
© Harriet Monroe
WASHINGTON
WHEN dreaming kings, at odds with swift paced time,
A Garden, Written after the Civil Wars
© Andrew Marvell
SEE how the flowers, as at parade,
Under their colours stand display'd:
Each regiment in order grows,
That of the tulip, pink, and rose.
Last Instructions to a Painter
© Andrew Marvell
Here, Painter, rest a little, and survey
With what small arts the public game they play.
For so too Rubens, with affairs of state,
His labouring pencil oft would recreate.
Damon The Mower
© Andrew Marvell
Heark how the Mower Damon Sung,
With love of Juliana stung!
While ev'ry thing did seem to paint
The Scene more fit for his complaint.
Lines Written At Sea (II)
© Frances Anne Kemble
But love thee still,
Through good and ill,
With the constancy
Of eternity:
Why art thou weeping,
O fool, for the dead?
An Horatian Ode Upon Cromwell's Return from Ireland
© Andrew Marvell
The forward youth that would appear
Must now forsake his Muses dear,
Nor in the shadows sing
His numbers languishing.
Thoughts in a Garden
© Andrew Marvell
HOW vainly men themselves amaze
To win the palm, the oak, or bays,
And their uncessant labours see
Crown'd from some single herb or tree,
The Match
© Andrew Marvell
Nature had long a Treasure made
Of all her choisest store;
Fearing, when She should be decay'd,
To beg in vain for more.
Lady Hamilton
© Muriel Stuart
Men wondered why I loved you, and none guessed
How sweet your slow, divine stupidity,
To A Blue Flower
© John Shaw Neilson
I would be dismal with all the fine pearls of the crown of a king;
But I can talk plainly to you, you little blue flower of the Spring!
Upon Appleton House, to My Lord Fairfax
© Andrew Marvell
Within this sober Frame expect
Work of no Forrain Architect;
That unto Caves the Quarries drew,
And Forrests did to Pastures hew;
