Happy poems
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In Laleham Churchyard
© William Watson
'Twas at this season, year by year,
The singer who lies songless here
Was wont to woo a less austere,
Less deep repose,
Where Rotha to Winandermere
Unresting flows,-
Pharsalia - Book IV: Caesar In Spain. War In The Adriatic Sea. Death Of Curio.
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Should mix with ours, the vanquished. Destiny
Has run for us its course: one boon I beg;
Bid not the conquered conquer in thy train."
The Princes' Quest - Part the Second
© William Watson
A fearful and a lovely thing is Sleep,
And mighty store of secrets hath in keep;
The Meeting
© Sara Teasdale
I'm happy, I'm happy,
I saw my love to-day.
He came along the crowded street,
By all the ladies gay,
To My Lord Buckhurst, Very Young, Playing With A Cat
© Matthew Prior
The amorous youth, whose tender breast
Was by his darling Cat possest,
The Singing Of The Magnificat
© Edith Nesbit
IN midst of wide green pasture-lands, cut through
By lines of alders bordering deep-banked streams,
Where bulrushes and yellow iris grew,
And rest and peace, and all the flowers of dreams,
The Abbey stood--so still, it seemed a part
Of the marsh-country's almost pulseless heart.
Love and Honor
© William Shenstone
Sed neque Medorum silvae, ditissima terra
Nec pulcher Ganges, atque auro turbidus Haemus,
Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book XI - Sraddha - (Funeral Rites)
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
From their royal brow and bosom gem and jewel cast aside,
Loose their robes and loose their tresses, quenched their haughty queenly
pride!
The Lay Of The Lady Lorraine
© Carolyn Wells
In vain they entreated, they begged and they plead,
They coaxed and besought, and they sullenly said
That she was hard-hearted, unfeeling, and cruel.
They challenged each other to many a duel;
They scowled and they scolded, they sulked and they sighed,
But they could not win Lady Lorraine for a bride.
The Rosebuds
© Henry Timrod
Yes, in that dainty ivory shrine,
With those three pallid buds, I twine
And fold away a dream divine!
The Little White Glove
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE early springtime faintly flushed the earth,
And in the woods, and by their favorite stream
The fair, wild roses blossomed modestly,
Above the wave that wooed them: there at eve,
Metamorphoses: Book The Sixth
© Ovid
The End of the Sixth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
Maternity
© Harriet Monroe
After the months of torpor,
Weakness and ache and strain,
After this day's deep drowning
In stormy seas of pain
To feel your hand, my baby,
Upon my bosom lain!
Cathair Fhargus
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
(FERGUS'S SEAT.)
A mountain in the Island of Arran, the summit of which resembles a gigantic
human profile.
Epitaph For A Darling Lady
© Dorothy Parker
All her hours were yellow sands,
Blown in foolish whorls and tassels;
Slipping warmly through her hands;
Patted into little castles.
Hero And Leander. The Sixth Sestiad
© George Chapman
No longer could the Day nor Destinies
Delay the Night, who now did frowning rise
Speculum Tuscanismi
© Gabriel Harvey
Since Galatea came in, and Tuscanism gan usurp,
Vanity above all: villainy next her, stateliness Empress
Zitten Out The Wold Year
© William Barnes
Why, raïn or sheen, or blow or snow,
I zaid, if I could stand so's,
Hermann And Dorothea - II. Terpsichore
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Then the son thoughtfully answer'd:--"I know not why, but the fact is
My annoyance has graven itself in my mind, and hereafter
I could not bear at the piano to see her, or list to her singing."
