Happy poems
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Sonnet VII: How soon hath Time, the Subtle Thief of Youth
© John Milton
How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, Stol'n on his wing my three-and-twentieth year! My hasting days fly on with full career, But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th
Paradise Regain'd: Book IV (1671)
© John Milton
PErplex'd and troubl'd at his bad successThe Tempter stood, nor had what to reply,Discover'd in his fraud, thrown from his hope,So oft, and the perswasive RhetoricThat sleek't his tongue, and won so much on Eve,So little here, nay lost; but Eve was Eve,This far his over-match, who self deceiv'dAnd rash, before-hand had no better weigh'dThe strength he was to cope with, or his own:But as a man who had been matchless heldIn cunning, over-reach't where least he thought,To salve his credit, and for very spightStill will be tempting him who foyls him still,And never cease, though to his shame the more;Or as a swarm of flies in vintage time,About the wine-press where sweet moust is powr'd,Beat off, returns as oft with humming sound;Or surging waves against a solid rock,Though all to shivers dash't, the assault renew,Vain battry, and in froth or bubbles end;So Satan, whom repulse upon repulseMet ever; and to shameful silence brought,Yet gives not o're though desperate of success,And his vain importunity pursues
Paradise Regain'd: Book I (1671)
© John Milton
I Who e're while the happy Garden sung,By one mans disobedience lost, now singRecover'd Paradise to all mankind,By one mans firm obedience fully tri'dThrough all temptation, and the Tempter foil'dIn all his wiles, defeated and repuls't,And Eden rais'd in the wast Wilderness
Paradise Lost: Books V-VIII: Editorial Summary
© John Milton
In BOOK V Eve recounts to Adam the dream, prefiguring her fall, which Satan has inspired; then the Archangel Raphael appears, sent by God to satisfy man's legitimate curiosity, to put him on his guard against Satan and thus to render his disobedience inexcusable
On the Morning of Christ's Nativity
© John Milton
This is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heav'n's eternal King,Of wedded Maid, and Virgin Mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing, That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace
Cumnor Hall
© William Mickle
The dews of summer nighte did falle, The moone (sweete regente of the skye)Silver'd the walles of Cumnor Halle, And manye an oake that grewe therebye.
Reunion
© McGimpsey David
What is my news? Well, since graduating,I've raked it in and I've tossed it off,I've plucked the green peach and sodded the pitch
[Let that which is to come be as it may...]
© John Masefield
Let that which is to come be as it may,Darkness, extinction, justice, life intenseThe flies are happy in the summer day,Flies will be happy many summers hence
Dat Leetle Box
© MacDonald Wilson Pugsley
I leev' me turty year alone; Dat ees a lonely life--A bachelor, dat's wat dey call De man who has no wife.
Swan
© David Herbert Lawrence
Far-offat the core of spaceat the quickof timebeatsand goes stillthe great swan upon the waters of all endingsthe swan within vast chaos, within the electron.
