Happy poems

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Late Loved--Well Loved

© Isabella Valancy Crawford

He stood beside her in the dawn

  (And she his Dawn and she his Spring),

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The Merchant Of Venice: A Legend Of Italy

© Richard Harris Barham

With a pack,
Like a sack
Of old clothes at his back,
And three hats on his head, Shylock came in a crack,
Saying, 'Rest you fair, Signior Antonio!- vat, pray,
Might your vorship be pleashed for to vant in ma vay!'

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Andy's Return

© Henry Lawson

With pannikins all rusty,

  And billy burnt and black,

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The Conversion Of St. Paul

© John Keble

The mid-day sun, with fiercest glare,
Broods o'er the hazy twinkling air:
  Along the level sand
The palm-tree's shade unwavering lies,
Just as thy towers, Damascus, rise
  To greet you wearied band.

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To the Memory of my dear and ever honoured Father Thomas Dudley Esq; Who deceased, July 31. 1653. an

© Anne Bradstreet

By duty bound, and not by custome led

To celebrate the praises of the dead,

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The Princes' Quest - Part the Ninth

© William Watson

And passing through the city he went out

Into the fat fields lying thereabout,

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In Memoriam A. H. H.: 131

© Alfred Tennyson

  O true and tried, so well and long,
  Demand not thou a marriage lay;
  In that it is thy marriage day
  Is music more than any song.

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The Meadow Brook

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

GURGLE, gurgle, gurgle,
Over ledge and stone;
How I'm going, flowing,
Westward, all alone;

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Au Lecteur (To The Reader)

© Charles Baudelaire

La sottise, l'erreur, le péché, la lésine,
Occupent nos esprits et travaillent nos corps,
Et nous alimentons nos aimables remords,
Comme les mendiants nourrissent leur vermine.

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The Judgment Of Paris

© James Beattie

Far in the depth of Ida's inmost grove,
A scene for love and solitude design'd;
Where flowery woodbines wild, by Nature wove,
Form'd the lone bower, the royal swain reclined.

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What A Baby Costs

© Edgar Albert Guest

"How much do babies cost?" said he

The other night upon my knee;

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A Christmas Hymn

© Alfred Domett

IT was the calm and silent night!  

 Seven hundred years and fifty-three  

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Tale XX

© George Crabbe

flown:
All swept away, to be perceived no more,
Like idle structures on the sandy shore,
The chance amusement of the playful boy,
That the rude billows in their rage destroy.
  Poor George confess'd, though loth the truth to

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With Dickens

© Henry Lawson

In Windsor Terrace, number four,

  I’ve taken my abode—

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Ripley

© Henry Timrod

Rich in red honors, that upon him lie
As lightly as the Summer dews
Fall where he won his fame beneath the sky
Of tropic Vera Cruz;

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Premonition

© George Santayana

The muffled syllables that Nature speaks
Fill us with deeper longing for her word;
She hides a meaning that the spirit seeks,
She makes a sweeter music than is heard.

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New Year

© Julia A Moore

Farewell to the old year forever,
  And all its sorrows and care
We'll bury in our hearts, and endeavor
  New troubles and trials to bear.

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Weariness

© Arthur Symons

I
There are grey hours when I drink of indifference; all things fade
Into the grey of a twilight that covers my soul with its sky;
Scarcely I know that this shade is the world, or this burden is I;
And life, and art, and love, and death, are the shades of a shade.

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Griselda: A Society Novel In Verse - Chapter I

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

And thus I first beheld her, standing calm
In the swayed crowd upon her husband's arm,
One opera night, the centre of all eyes,
So proud she seemed, so fair, so sweet, so wise.
Some one behind me whispered ``Lady L.!
His Lordship too! and thereby hangs a tale.''

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Stray Seed

© Robert Laurence Binyon

A far look in absorbed eyes, unaware
Of what some gazer thrills to gather there;
Happy voice, singing to itself apart,
That pulses new blood through a listener's heart;