Happy poems
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Malcolm's Katie: A Love Story - Part II.
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
O, Love builds on the azure sea,
And Love builds on the golden sand;
And Love builds on the rose-wing'd cloud,
And sometimes Love builds on the land.
On the Bill Which Was Passed in England For Regulating the Slave-Trade
© Helen Maria Williams
The hollow winds of night no more
In wild, unequal cadence pour,
The same embrace
© Ivan Donn Carswell
We talked with family last night, not mine or yours
specifically but ours, the ones we love familiarly. When
little Jake (though not so little now) was heard to say ,
Goodbye, I gotta go, it was like our hearts were breaking;
The Wedded Lover
© Christopher Morley
They said by now the path would be more steep,
the sunsets paler and less mild the air;
Rightly we heeded not; it was not true.
We will not tell the secret-let it keep.
I know not how I thought those days so fair
These being so much fairer, spent with you
The Ease and Charm of You
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Theres an infinity of wisdom in your smile that would deny
the winsome wit that lies at back of it; and then the droll and
cheeky svénska troll of you which peeps out from the
flimsy drape in which you sheet your public soul, an urchin
Out of The Annexe
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It grew out of the Annexe and our Corps in a world at peace
while our army trained, magnificent in its heroic pretence,
for an implausible war. They were halcyon days
in the shelter, days that combine in easy recollections
Old Black Joe
© Stephen C. Foster
Gone are the days when my heart was young and gay,
Gone are my friends from the cotton fields away,
The Faire Begger
© Richard Lovelace
I.
Comanding asker, if it be
Pity that you faine would have,
Then I turne begger unto thee,
It seldom snowed Part III
© Ivan Donn Carswell
It seldom snowed they said, and they were nearly right. In all of nine eventful
seasons crystal white on average graced the place just twice a year. A smaller
fall, an over-night preceded heavy snow. And heavy snow remained a week,
blocked drains and closed the Desert Road; but no complaints, our children
Why England Is Conservative
© Alfred Austin
Because of our dear Mother, the fair Past,
On whom twin Hope and Memory safely lean,
Krishna And His Three Handmaidens
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
AND where he sat beneath the mystic stars,
Nigh the twin founts of Immortality,
That feed fair channels of the Stream of Trance,--
To Krishna once his three handmaidens came,
Futurelessness
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Time to count the torrid cost of careless words inflicted on
your battered dignity, time to close the ugly face that chanted
out invective foul and shattered amity, time to quell
the fervid rush of feckless wrath which weighs
against the bloodied loss this manic madness brusque
and hot has flung across the face of sanity.
Burns
© Charles Harpur
MY OWN WILD BURNS! these rude-wrought rhymes of thine
In golden worth are like the unshapely coin
Of some new realm, yet pure as from the mine
And Art may well be spared with such alloy
As dims the bullion to improve the die!
Dead thoughts of corpses
© Ivan Donn Carswell
The symbols that we use are T shirts of the dead
thoughts of corpses without heads, a rictus
without sound open-mouthed, empty, unbound.
And if you ever write those clichés which incite
my approbation, fuck you, I am not amused.
And if I ever do, then fuck me too.
Faustus And Helen
© Arthur Symons
HELEN
Have I slept long? You waken me from sleep.
I have forgotten something: what is it?
In Memory Of The Late John Thornton, Esq.
© William Cowper
Poets attempt the noblest task they can,
Praising the Author of all good in man,
And, next, commemorating Worthies lost,
The dead in whom that good abounded most.
An Invitation
© Robert Fuller Murray
Dear Ritchie, I am waiting for the signal word to fly,
And tell me that the visit which has suffered such belating
Is to be a thing of now, and no more of by-and-by.
Dear Ritchie, I am waiting.
