Happy poems
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Translations And Adaptations From Heine
© Ezra Pound
I
Is your hate, then, of such measure?
Do you, truly, so detest me?
Through all the world will I complain
Of how you have addressed me.
Paradiso
© Kenneth Koch
There is no way not to be excited
When what you have been disillusioned by raises its head
Frost Magic
© Duncan Campbell Scott
With eerie power he piles his atomies,
Incrusted gems, star-glances overborne
With lids of sleep pulled from the moth's bright eyes,
And forests of frail ferns, blanched and forlorn,
Where Oberon of unimagined size
Might in the silver silence wind his horn.
Pharsalia - Book VII: The Battle
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Then burned their souls
At these his words, indignant at the thought,
And Rome rose up within them, and to die
Was welcome.
Scholar And The Carpenter
© Jean Ingelow
While ripening corn grew thick and deep,
And here and there men stood to reap,
Shooting
© Henry James Pye
The Monarch hears, and with reluctant eyes
Gives the consent his boding heart denies;
His brow a placid guise dissembling wears,
While Reason vainly combats stronger fears.
Deliverance Through Art
© Lesbia Harford
When I am making poetry I'm good
And happy then.
I live in a deep world of angelhood
Afar from men.
In The Harbour: At La Chaudeau. (From The French Of Charles Coran)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
At La Chaudeau,--'tis long since then:
I was young,--my years twice ten;
All things smiled on the happy boy,
Dreams of love and songs of joy,
Azure of heaven and wave below,
At La Chaudeau.
Matthew
© William Wordsworth
IF Nature, for a favourite child,
In thee hath tempered so her clay,
That every hour thy heart runs wild,
Yet never once doth go astray,
Fand, A Feerie Act II
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
In the land of the living are kingdoms twain,
Kingdoms twain,--nay, kingdoms three;
One is of sunshine and one of rain,
And one of the moonlight without a stain.
The moonlight people, of these are we,
The ever--happy, the Sidhe, the Sidhe.
The Coo Of The Cushat
© Ada Cambridge
Over the smooth lawns, broider'd with violets,
Over the hedges of snow-white thorn,
Over the billowy, pink apple-blossoms,
The musical coo of the cushat is borne.
The Unhappy Lot Of Mr. Knott
© James Russell Lowell
My worthy friend, A. Gordon Knott,
From business snug withdrawn,
Was much contented with a lot
That would contain a Tudor cot
'Twixt twelve feet square of garden-plot,
And twelve feet more of lawn.
From the Persian of Hafiz I
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
Butler, fetch the ruby wine,
Which with sudden greatness fills us;
Arcadia Rediviva
© James Russell Lowell
I, walking the familiar street,
While a crammed horse-car jingled through it,
Was lifted from my prosy feet
And in Arcadia ere I knew it.
In the Wood
© Boris Pasternak
Blurred by a lilac heat, the meadows:
in the wood, cathedral shadows swirled.
Woman
© Fitz-Greene Halleck
LADY, although we have not met,
And may not meet, beneath the sky;
And whether thine are eyes of jet,
Gray, or dark blue, or violet,
Or hazelheaven knows, not I;
