Happy poems
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The Ring Of Polycrates - A Ballad
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Upon his battlements he stood,
And downward gazed in joyous mood,
On Samos' Isle, that owned his sway,
"All this is subject to my yoke;"
To Egypt's monarch thus he spoke,--
"That I am truly blest, then, say!"
The Power Of Song
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
The foaming stream from out the rock
With thunder roar begins to rush,--
The oak falls prostrate at the shock,
And mountain-wrecks attend the gush.
The Philosophical Egotist
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Hast thou the infant seen that yet, unknowing of the love
Which warms and cradles, calmly sleeps the mother's heart above--
Wandering from arm to arm, until the call of passion wakes,
And glimmering on the conscious eye--the world in glory breaks?
The Lay Of The Bell
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Fast, in its prison-walls of earth,
Awaits the mould of baked clay.
Up, comrades, up, and aid the birth
The bell that shall be born to-day!
The Infanticide
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Francis, O Francis! league on league shall chase thee
The shadows hurrying grimly on thy flight--
Still with their icy arms they shall embrace thee,
And mutter thunder in thy dream's delight!
The Ideals
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
And wilt thou, faithless one, then, leave me,
With all thy magic phantasy,--
With all the thoughts that joy or grieve me,
Wilt thou with all forever fly?
The Gods Of Greece
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Ye in the age gone by,
Who ruled the world--a world how lovely then!--
And guided still the steps of happy men
In the light leading-strings of careless joy!
The Fortune-Favored
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Ah! happy he, upon whose birth each god
Looks down in love, whose earliest sleep the bright
Idalia cradles, whose young lips the rod
Of eloquent Hermes kindles--to whose eyes,
The Driver
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
"What knight or what vassal will be so bold
As to plunge in the gulf below?
See! I hurl in its depths a goblet of gold,
Already the waters over it flow.
The man who can bring back the goblet to me,
May keep it henceforward,--his own it shall be."
The Cranes Of Ibycus
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Once to the song and chariot-fight,
Where all the tribes of Greece unite
On Corinth's isthmus joyously,
The god-loved Ibycus drew nigh.
The Complaint Of Ceres
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Does pleasant spring return once more?
Does earth her happy youth regain?
Sweet suns green hills are shining o'er;
Soft brooklets burst their icy chain:
The Celebrated Woman - An Epistle By A Married Man
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
If Faust had really any hand
In printing, I can understand
The fate which legends more than hint;--
The devil take all hands that print!
The Bards Of Olden Time
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Say, where is now that glorious race, where now are the singers
Who, with the accents of life, listening nations enthralled,
Sung down from heaven the gods, and sung mankind up to heaven,
And who the spirit bore up high on the pinions of song?
The Artists
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
How gracefully, O man, with thy palm-bough,
Upon the waning century standest thou,
In proud and noble manhood's prime,
With unlocked senses, with a spirit freed,
Punch Song (To be sung in the Northern Countries)
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
On the mountain's breezy summit,
Where the southern sunbeams shine,
Aided by their warming vigor,
Nature yields the golden wine.
Parables And Riddles
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
A bridge of pearls its form uprears
High o'er a gray and misty sea;
E'en in a moment it appears,
And rises upwards giddily.
Nadowessian Death-Lament
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
See, he sitteth on his mat
Sitteth there upright,
With the grace with which he sat
While he saw the light.
Melancholy -- To Laura
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Laura! a sunrise seems to break
Where'er thy happy looks may glow.
Joy sheds its roses o'er thy cheek,
Thy tears themselves do but bespeak
Longing
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Could I from this valley drear,
Where the mist hangs heavily,
Soar to some more blissful sphere,
Ah! how happy should I be!
Hero And Leander
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
See you the towers, that, gray and old,
Frown through the sunlight's liquid gold,
Steep sternly fronting steep?
The Hellespont beneath them swells,
