Happy poems
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Sonnet LVIII. The Glow-Worm
© Charlotte Turner Smith
WHEN on some balmy-breathing night of Spring
The happy child, to whom the world is new,
Pursues the evening moth, of mealy wing,
Or from the heath-bell beats the sparkling dew;
Laodamia
© William Wordsworth
O terror! what hath she perceived?-O joy!
What doth she look on?-whom doth she behold?
Her Hero slain upon the beach of Troy?
His vital presence? his corporeal mould?
It is-if sense deceive her not-'tis He!
And a God leads him, wingèd Mercury!
The Way To Happiness
© Thomas Parnell
How long ye miserable blind
Shall idle dreams engage your mind,
Our Humming-Bird
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
AH, well I know the reason why
They called her by that graceful name:
She seems a creature born with wings,
O'er which a rainbow spirit flings
The Bride Of The Nile - Act III
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
(Enter Barix and Boïlas conversing.)
Barix. I always said it, Boïlas, it must come at last,
The day of annexation. Things have moved on fast,
Faster than we quite thought a week or two ago.
The mills of Rome grind slowly--quite absurdly slow.
It comes to the same thing.
Selling The Old Home
© Edgar Albert Guest
The little house has grown too small, or rather we have grown
Too big to dwell within the walls where all our joys were known.
And so, obedient to the wish of her we love so well,
I have agreed for sordid gold the little home to sell.
Now strangers come to see the place, and secretly I sigh,
And deep within my breast I hope that they'll refuse to buy.
Sonnet. On Mrs. Kemble's Readings From Shakespeare
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
O precious evenings! all too swiftly sped!
Leaving us heirs to amplest heritages
Carmen Triumphale
© Henry Timrod
Go forth and bid the land rejoice,
Yet not too gladly, O my song!
Breathe softly, as if mirth would wrong
The solemn rapture of thy voice.
Come Slowly, Paradise
© James Benjamin Kenyon
O dawn upon me slowly, Paradise!
Come not too suddenly,
Lest my just-opened, unaccustomed eyes
Smitten with blindness be.
Alfred. Book II.
© Henry James Pye
He ceasedbut still the accents of his tongue
Persuasive, on the attentive hearers hung:
The monarch and his warlike thanes around
Still listening sat, in silent wonder bound.
An Horation Ode Upon Cromwell's Return From Ireland
© Andrew Marvell
The forward Youth that would appear
Must now forsake his Muses dear,
Nor in the Shadows sing
His Numbers languishing.
The Two Lovers Of Heaven: Chrysanthus And Daria - Act I
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Chrysanthus is seen seated near a writing table on which are several
books: he is reading a small volume with deep attention.
The Turtle And Sparrow. An Elegiac Tale
© Matthew Prior
Stretch'd on the bier Columbo lies,
Pale are his cheeks, and closed his eyes;
Those eyes, where beauty smiling lay,
Those eyes, where Love was used to play;
Ah! cruel Fate, alas how soon
That beauty and those joys are flown!
Prejudice
© Jane Taylor
It is not worth our while, but if it were,
We all could undertake to laugh at her ;
Since vulgar prejudice, the lowest kind,
Of course, has full possession of her mind ;
Here, therefore, let us leave her, and inquire
Wherein it differs as it rises higher.
The Sweetness Of England
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
And when, at last
Escaped,-so many a green slope built on slope
The Bastard
© Richard Savage
Is chance a guilt? that my disastrous heart,
For mischief never meant; must ever smart?
Can self-defence be sin?-Ah, plead no more!
What though no purposed malice stained thee o'er?
Had Heaven befriended thy unhappy side,
Thou hadst not been provoked-or thou hadst died.
God Speaks
© Lesbia Harford
I made a heaven for you filled with stars,
Each star a song
Meant to give happy music to your ear,
Day and night long.
