Happy poems
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Short Short Song
© Souster Raymond
When Susi smiles I'm happy,when Susi's sad I'm sad.So as long as we're togetherlet the whole world go mad!
My Muse
© Stevie Smith
My Muse sits forelornShe wishes she had not been bornShe sits in the coldNo word she says is ever told.
Man’s Sinfulness And Need Of Repentance And Forgiveness
© The Bible
“Look! With error I was brought forth with birth pains,
And in sin my mother conceived me.”
“May you purify me from sin with hyssop, that I may be clean;
May you wash me, that I may become whiter even than snow.”
“Conceal your face from my sins,
And wipe out even all my errors.”—Ps. 51:5, 7, 9.
The New Mothers
© Shields Carol
Nearly seven,walls loosen, it's already dark,dinner trays rattle by,nurses slack off, catcha smoke, let go.Roses bloom in every room.
A Pastoral Ballad, Absence
© William Shenstone
Ye shepherds so cheerful and gay, Whose flocks never carelessly roam;Should Corydon's happen to stray, Oh! call the poor wanderers home
Shakespeare's Sonnets: When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see
© William Shakespeare
When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,For all the day they view things unrespected,But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,And darkly bright, are bright in dark directed
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?
© William Shakespeare
Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy:Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly,Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy?If the true concord of well-tunèd sounds,By unions married do offend thine ear,They do but sweetly chide thee, who confoundsIn singleness the parts that thou should'st bear:Mark how one string, sweet husband to an other,Strikes each in each by mutual ordering,Resembling sire, and child, and happy mother,Who all-in-one one pleasing note do sing Whose speechless song being many, seeming one, Sings this to thee, "thou single wilt prove none
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Let those who are in favour with their stars
© William Shakespeare
Let those who are in favour with their starsOf public honour and proud titles boast,Whil'st I whom fortune of such triumph barsUnlook't for joy in that I honour most;Great princes' favorites their fair leaves spreadBut as the marigold at the sun's eye,And in them-selves their pride lies burièd,For at a frown they in their glory die
Shakespeare's Sonnets: How oft when thou, my music, music play'st
© William Shakespeare
How oft when thou, my music, music play'stUpon that blessèd wood whose motion soundsWith thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway'stThe wiry concord that mine ear confounds,Do I envy those jacks that nimble leapTo kiss the tender inward of thy hand,Whil'st my poor lips, which should that harvest reap,At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand
Shakespeare's Sonnets: How can I then return in happy plight
© William Shakespeare
How can I then return in happy plightThat am debarr'd the benefit of rest?When day's oppression is not eas'd by night,But day by night and night by day oppress't
Shakespeare's Sonnets: But wherefore do not you a mightier way
© William Shakespeare
But wherefore do not you a mightier wayMake war upon this bloody tyrant timeAnd fortify your self in your decayWith means more blessèd than my barren rhyme?Now stand you on the top of happy hours,And many maiden gardens yet unset,With virtuous wish would bear your living flow'rs,Much liker than your painted counterfeit:So should the lines of life that life repairWhich this (time's pencil or my pupil pen)Neither in inward worth nor outward fairCan make you live your self in eyes of men; To give away your self keeps your self still, And you must live drawn by your own sweet skill
Shakespeare's Sonnets: But do thy worst to steal thy self away
© William Shakespeare
But do thy worst to steal thy self away,For term of life thou art assurèd mine,And life no longer than thy love will stay,For it depends upon that love of thine
Shakespeare's Sonnets: Being your slave, what should I do but tend
© William Shakespeare
Being your slave, what should I do but tendUpon the hours and times of your desire?I have no precious time at all to spend,Nor services to do till you require
Shakespeare's Sonnets: As a decrepit father takes delight
© William Shakespeare
As a decrepit father takes delightTo see his active child do deeds of youthSo I, made lame by fortune's dearest spite,Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth
Richard II (excerpts): This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle
© William Shakespeare
This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle,This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,This other Eden, demi-paradise,This fortress built by Nature for her selfAgainst infection and the hand of war,This happy breed of men, this little world,This precious stone set in a silver seaWhich serves it in the office of a wallOr as a moat defensive to a house,Against the envy of less happier lands,This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,Feared by their breed and famous for their birth,Renownèd for their deeds as far from homeFor Christian service and true chivalryAs is the sepulchre in stubborn JewryOf the world's ransom, blessèd Mary's son
The Girt Woak Tree
© William Barnes
The girt woak tree that's in the dell !
There's noo tree I do love so well;
Lines Written in Kensington Gardens
© Matthew Arnold
In this lone, open glade I lie,
Screen'd by deep boughs on either hand;
And at its end, to stay the eye,
Those black-crown'd, red-boled pine-trees stand!
