Happy poems
/ page 62 of 254 /Meeting In Winter
© William Morris
Winter in the world it is,
Round about the unhoped kiss
Whose dream I long have sorrowed oer;
Round about the longing sore,
That the touch of thee shall turn
Into joy too deep to burn.
Rokeby: Canto V.
© Sir Walter Scott
"Summer eve is gone and past,
Summer dew is falling fast;
I have wander'd all the day,
Do not bid me farther stray!
Gentle hearts, of gentle kin,
Take the wandering harper in."
Apology to Delia
© William Cowper
This evening, Delia, you and I,
Have managed most delightfully,
For with a frown we parted;
Having contrived some trifle that
We both may be much troubled at,
And sadly disconcerted.
Montgomerie's Peggy
© Robert Burns
Altho' my bed were in yon muir,
Amang the heather, in my plaidie;
Yet happy, happy would I be,
Had I my dear Montgomerie's Peggy.
The Materialist
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
MY soul has left its tent of clay
And seeks from star to star,
Contentment
© Eugene Field
Happy the man that, when his day is done,
Lies down to sleep with nothing of regret--
Three Years She Grew in Sun and Shower
© William Wordsworth
Three years she grew in sun and shower,
Then Nature said, "A lovelier flower
On earth was never sown;
This Child I to myself will take;
She shall be mine, and I will make
A Lady of my own.
Song V
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Two doves upon the selfsame branch,
Two lilies on a single stem,
Two butterflies upon one flower:
Oh happy they who look on them.
To The Future
© James Russell Lowell
O Land of Promise! from what Pisgah's height
Can I behold thy stretch of peaceful bowers,
On Hearing A Yellow Hammer Sing Near Dunedin
© Alexander Bathgate
List! to that pretty little bird,
Singing on yonder bush of thorn;
Its plaintive notes I have not heard,
Save in the land where I was born.
Aletheia To Phraortes
© Walter Savage Landor
Phraortes! where art thou?
The flames were panting after us, their darts Had pierced to many hearts
Before the Gods, who heard nor prayer nor vow;
Empty
© Ada Cambridge
Can this be my poem?-this poor fragment
Of bald thought in meanest language dressed!
Can this string of rhymes be my sweep poem?
All its poetry wholly unexpressed!
Lalla Ruk
© Vasily Andreyevich Zhukovsky
Dearest dream, my soul's enchantment
Lovely guest from heav'n above,
The Golden Age
© Alfred Austin
Nor this the worst! When ripened Shame would hide
Fruits of that hour when Passion conquered Pride,
There are not wanting in this Christian land
The breast remorseless and the Thuggish hand,
To advertise the dens where Death is sold,
And quench the breath of baby-life for gold!
Lines Written As A School Exercise At Hawkshead, Anno Aetatis 14
© William Wordsworth
"AND has the Sun his flaming chariot driven
Two hundred times around the ring of heaven,
Since Science first, with all her sacred train,
Beneath yon roof began her heavenly reign?
Psalm II.
© John Milton
Why do the Gentiles tumult, and the Nations
Muse a vain thing, the Kings of th'earth upstand
With power, and Princes in their Congregations
Lay deep their plots together through each Land,