Happy poems
/ page 203 of 254 /
When Gassy Thompson Struck It Rich
© Vachel Lindsay
He paid a Swede twelve bits an hour
Just to invent a fancy style
To spread the celebration paint
So it would show at least a mile.
I Heard Immanuel Singing
© Vachel Lindsay
(The poem shows the Master, with his work done, singing to free his heart in Heaven.)
I heard Immanuel singing
Within his own good lands,
I saw him bend above his harp.
Dedication : To The Memory Of Cecil Spring-Rice
© Alfred Noyes
STEADFAST as any soldier of the line
He served his England, with the imminent death
Poised at his heart. Nor could the world divine
The constant peril of each burdened breath.
How a Little Girl Sang
© Vachel Lindsay
Ah, she was music in herself,
A symphony of joyousness.
She sang, she sang from finger tips,
From every tremble of her dress.
The Booker Washington Trilogy
© Vachel Lindsay
His fist was an enormous size
To mash poor niggers that told him lies:
He was surely a witch-man in disguise.
But he went down to the Devil.
By the Spring, at Sunset
© Vachel Lindsay
Sun in my face, wind beside my shoulder,
Streaming clouds, banners of new-born night
Enchant me now. The splendors growing bolder
Make bold my soul for some new wise delight.
The Heart Of The Tree
© Henry Cuyler Bunner
WHAT does he plant who plants a tree?
He plants a friend of sun and sky;
Herbert
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
AH! you tricksy little elf,
How you idolize yourself!
And believe the world was made
Like a gay-hued masquerade,
Sweet Briars of the Stairways
© Vachel Lindsay
We are happy all the time
Even when we fight:
Sweet briars of the stairways,
Gay fairies of the grime;
We, who are playing to-night.
To Lady Jane
© Vachel Lindsay
Romance was always young.
You come today
Just eight years old
With marvellous dark hair.
The Woodman And The Nightingale
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
A woodman whose rough heart was out of tune
(I think such hearts yet never came to good)
Hated to hear, under the stars or moon,
Welcome To Egypt
© Mathilde Blind
Spake the grave Arab, as his flashing glance
Swept the large, luminous verdure's dewy sheen,
Sedately, with a bronze-like countenance:
"Nehârak Saîd! Lo, this happy day,
My country decks herself in sumptuous green,
And smiling welcome, Lady, bids you stay."
Brave Boys Are They!
© Henry Clay Work
Brave boys are they!
Gone at their country's call;
And yet, and yet we cannot forget
That many brave boys must fall.
Lines Written Beneath An Elm In The Churchyard Of Harrow On The Hill, Sept. 2, 1807
© George Gordon Byron
Spot of my youth! whose hoary branches sigh,
Swept by the breeze that fans thy cloudless sky;
Where now alone I muse, who oft have trod,
With those I loved, thy soft and verdant sod;
When Earth's Last Picture Is Painted
© Rudyard Kipling
And only The Master shall praise us, and only The Master shall blame;
Andd no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame,
But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate star,
Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things as They are!
The Creeds Of The Bells
© Anonymous
How sweet the chime of the Sabbath bells!
Each one its creed in music tells
Lines To Fanny
© John Keats
What can I do to drive away
Remembrance from my eyes? for they have seen,
Aye, an hour ago, my brilliant Queen!
Touch has a memory. O say, love, say,
The Song of the Cities
© Rudyard Kipling
BOMBAY
Royal and Dower-royal, I the Queen
Fronting thy richest sea with richer hands --
Nathan The Wise - Act IV
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
SCENE.--The Cloister of a Convent.
The FRIAR alone.
