Happy poems
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The Soudanese
© William Watson
They wrong'd not us, nor sought 'gainst us to wage
The bitter battle. On their God they cried
Flowers in Winter
© John Greenleaf Whittier
How strange to greet, this frosty morn,
In graceful counterfeit of flower,
These children of the meadows, born
Of sunshine and of showers!
Barclay Of Ury
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Up the streets of Aberdeen,
By the kirk and college green,
Rode the Laird of Ury;
Close behind him, close beside,
Foul of mouth and evil-eyed,
Pressed the mob in fury.
Jubilate Agno: Fragment B, Part 4
© Christopher Smart
Tho' toad I am the object of man's hate.
Yet better am I than a reprobate. who has the worst of prospects.
For there are stones, whose constituent particles are little toads.
Book Of Suleika - Suleika 02
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
WHAT is by this stir reveal'd?
Doth the East glad tidings bring?
Jubilate Agno: Fragment B, Part 1
© Christopher Smart
Let Elizur rejoice with the Partridge, who is a prisoner of state and is proud of his keepers.
The Tretis Of The Twa Mariit Women And The Wedo
© William Dunbar
Quhen that the semely had said her sentence to end,
Than all thai leuch apon loft with latis full mery,
And raucht the cop round about full of riche wynis,
And ralyeit lang, or thai wald rest, with ryatus speche.
How The Cat Was Belled
© Carolyn Wells
The poor rats were at their wits' end
Their homes and families to defend;
And as a last resort
They took the case to court.
The Copper Beech by Marie Howe: American Life in Poetry #66 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2006
© Ted Kooser
Some of the most telling poetry being written in our country today has to do with the smallest and briefest of pleasures. Here Marie Howe of New York captures a magical moment: sitting in the shelter of a leafy tree with the rain falling all around.
The Copper Beech
His Answer To "Her Letter"
© Francis Bret Harte
(REPORTED BY TRUTHFUL JAMES)
Being asked by an intimate party,--
Visions for the Entertainment and Instruction of Younger Minds: Happiness
© Nathaniel Cotton
Ye ductile youths, whose rising sun
Hath many circles still to run;
The Yukon
© Joaquin Miller
THE moon resumed all heaven now,
She shepherded the stars below
Along her wide, white steeps of snow,
Nor stooped nor rested, where or how.
Summer Night, Riverside
© Sara Teasdale
And now, far off
In the fragrant darkness
The tree is tremulous again with bloom
For June comes back.
Emancipation Hymn
© Anonymous
Praise we the Lord! let songs resound
To earths remotest shore!
Songs of thanksgiving, songs of praise
For we are slaves no more.
Shake The Superflux!
© David Lehman
I like walking on streets as black and wet as this one
now, at two in the solemnly musical morning, when everyone else
in this town emptied of Lestrygonians and Lotus-eaters
is asleep or trying or worrying why
The Body of Divinity Versifyed
© Cotton Mather
A God there is, a God of boundless Might,
In Wisdom, Justice, Goodness, Infinite.
Wittgenstein's Ladder
© David Lehman
"My propositions serve as elucidations in the following way:
anyone who understands them eventually recognizes them as
nonsensical, when he has used them -- as steps -- to climb
up beyond them. (He must, so to speak, throw away the ladder
after he has climbed up it.)" -- Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus
