Happiness poems
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Improvement
© Edgar Albert Guest
The joy of life is living it, or so it seems to me;
In finding shackles on your wrists, then struggling till you're free;
Solomon on the Vanity of the World, A Poem. In Three Books. - Power. Book III.
© Matthew Prior
Come then, my soul: I call thee by that name,
Thou busy thing, from whence I know I am;
For, knowing that I am, I know thou art,
Since that must needs exist which can impart:
But how thou camest to be, or whence thy spring,
For various of thee priests and poets sing.
The Hills
© Madison Julius Cawein
There is no joy of earth that thrills
My bosom like the far-off hills!
When I was Young and Ignorant
© Patrick Barrington
When I was young and ignorant I loved a Miss McDougall,
Our days were spent in happiness, although our means were frugal;
To Her Grace The Dutchess Of Portland
© Mary Barber
'Tis theirs, who but to please aspire,
On Fiction to employ the Lyre;
Make Gods and Goddesses display
The Splendor of the Nuptial Day.
What Little Things!
© Madison Julius Cawein
What little things are those
That hold our happiness!
A smile, a glance, a rose
Dropped from her hair or dress;
A word, a look, a touch,-
These are so much, so much.
The Heroic Enthusiasts - Part The First =Fifth Dialogue.=
© Giordano Bruno
CIC. Now show me how I may be able for myself to consider the conditions
of these enthusiasts, through that which appears in the order of the
warfare here described.
Paradiso
© Kenneth Koch
There is no way not to be excited
When what you have been disillusioned by raises its head
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.
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.
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 Child's Grave
© Edmund Blunden
I came to the churchyard where pretty Joy lies
On a morning in April, a rare sunny day;
Such bloom rose around, and so many birds' cries
That I sang for delight as I followed the way.
Sticky Fingers
© Edgar Albert Guest
Wife says that I should be ashamed
To wear such garments as I do,
In the Wood
© Boris Pasternak
Blurred by a lilac heat, the meadows:
in the wood, cathedral shadows swirled.
March Mournful and Vertical
© Kostas Karyotakis
I stare at the ceiling's plasterwork.
I'm drawn into the dance of the meanders.
My happiness, I'm thinking, would
lie in height.
May-Day, 1837
© Caroline Norton
I.
MAY-DAY is come!--While yet the unwillng Spring
Checks with capricious frown the opening year,
Onward, where bleak winds have been whispering,
The Beggars
© Arthur Symons
It is the beggars who possess the earth.
Kings on their throne have but the narrow girth
