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Poem of the Day for Happiness

 
 
Miller
 
Reply Mon 27 Sep, 2010 08:29 am
A Red, Red Rose

1.O, my luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my luve's like the melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
2.
As fair art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I,
And I will luve thee still, my Dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry.
3.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun!
O I will luve thee still, my Dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
4.
And fare thee weel, my only Luve,
And fare thee weel a while!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!

Robert Burns
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Miller
 
  0  
Reply Thu 30 Sep, 2010 02:59 pm
AH, SUNFLOWER


Ah, sunflower, weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the sun;
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller's journey is done;

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves, and aspire
Where my Sunflower wishes to go!

Robert Blake
0 Replies
 
Miller
 
  0  
Reply Fri 1 Oct, 2010 04:44 am
Where the bee sucks

Where the bee sucks, there suck I;
In a cowslip's bell I lie;
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat's back I do fly
After summer merrily.
Merrily, merrily shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
-- William Shakespeare
Miller
 
  0  
Reply Sun 10 Oct, 2010 06:21 am
@Miller,
"SHE DWELT AMONG THE UNTRODDEN WAYS"
SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
--Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be; 10
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!

William Wordsworth
Miller
 
  0  
Reply Tue 12 Oct, 2010 07:59 am
@Miller,
The Midnight Mouse

It midnights, not a moon is out.
No star lives in the heavenhouse.
Runs twelve times through the heavenhouse
The Midnightmouse.

She pipes upon her little jaws.
The hellhorse from his nightmare roars...
Runs quietly, her allotted course,
The Midnightmouse.

Her Lord, the Spirit great and white,
Has gone abroad on such a night.
She keeps watch in his heaven; all's right,
The Midnightmouse.

Christian Morgenstern
0 Replies
 
Miller
 
  0  
Reply Mon 18 Oct, 2010 08:09 am
John Barleycorn

There were three kings into the east,
Three kings both great and high,
An' they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.

They took a plough and ploughed him down,
Put clods upon his head;
An' they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.

But the cheerfu' spring came kindly on,
And show'rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surprised them all.

The sultry suns of summer came,
And he grew thick and strong;
His head weel armed wi' pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.

The sober autumn entered mild,
When he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head
Showed he began to fail.

His colour sickened more and more,
He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
To show their deadly rage.

They've ta'en a weapon long and sharp,
And cut him by the knee;
Then tied him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.

They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgelled him full sore;
They hung him up before the storm,
And turned him o'er and o'er.

They filled up a darksome pit
With water to the brim;
They heaved in John Barleycorn,
There let him sink or swim.

They laid him out upon the floor,
To work him farther woe,
And still, as signs of life appeared,
They tossed him to and fro.

They wasted, o'er a scorching flame,
The marrow of his bones;
But a miller used him worst of all,
For he crushed him 'tween two stones.

And they hae ta'en his very heart's blood,
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.

John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise;
For if you do but taste his blood,
'Twill make your courage rise;

'Twill make a man forget his woe;
'Twill heighten all his joy:
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
Tho' the tear were in her eye.

Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne'er fail in old Scotland!




Robert Burns
0 Replies
 
Miller
 
  0  
Reply Wed 20 Oct, 2010 08:36 am
Infant Joy

"I have no name;
I am but two days old."
What shall I call thee?
"I happy am,
Joy is my name."
Sweet joy befall thee!
Pretty joy!
Sweet joy, but two days old.
Sweet Joy I call thee:
Thou dost smile,
I sing the while;
Sweet joy befall thee!

William Blake
0 Replies
 
Miller
 
  0  
Reply Fri 22 Oct, 2010 07:28 am
Madam and Her Madam

I worked for a woman,
She wasn't mean--
But she had a twelve-room
House to clean.

Had to get breakfast,
Dinner, and supper, too--
Then take care of her children
When I got through.

Wash, iron, and scrub,
Walk the dog around--
It was too much,
Nearly broke me down.

I said, Madam,
Can it be
You trying to make a
Pack-horse out of me?

She opened her mouth.
She cried, Oh, no!
You know, Alberta,
I love you so!

I said, Madam,
That may be true--
But I'll be dogged
If I love you!

Langston Hughes


0 Replies
 
msolga
 
  1  
Reply Fri 22 Oct, 2010 06:58 pm
in just-

in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman
whistles far and wee

and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer
old balloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing
from hop-scotch and jump-rope and

it's spring
and the goat-footed
balloonMan whistles
far
and
wee

Edward Estlin Cummings
0 Replies
 
Miller
 
  0  
Reply Sat 23 Oct, 2010 09:47 am
ON BEING ASKED WHAT WAS THE 'ORIGIN OF LOVE'

THE 'Origin of Love!' - Ah why
That cruel question ask of me,
When thou may'st read in many an eye
He starts to life on seeing thee?

And should'st thou seek his end to know:
My heart forebodes, my fears foresee
He'll linger long in silent woe;
But live - until I cease to be.

Lord Byron
0 Replies
 
Miller
 
  0  
Reply Mon 1 Nov, 2010 09:29 am
The Rose of Sharon

I am the rose of Sharon,
and the lily of the valleys.
As the lily among thorns,
so is my love among the daughters.
As the apple tree among the trees of the wood,
so is my beloved among the sons.

I sat down under his shadow with great delight,
and his fruit was sweet to my taste.
He brought me to the banqueting house,
and his banner over me was love.
Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples:
for I am sick of love.

His left hand is under my head,
and his right hand doth embrace me.
I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem,
by the roes, and by the hinds of the field...
that ye stir not up, nor awake my love...
till he please.

- Solomon
0 Replies
 
alex240101
 
  1  
Reply Mon 1 Nov, 2010 11:28 am
,..pumpkin pile, made me smile
seed teeth pulpy delight
to much to do, not a care anyway,
every second that tics beyond the sky by
looking up, never in disguise.

alex240101

Neat thread Miller.
Miller
 
  0  
Reply Sat 13 Nov, 2010 02:08 pm
@alex240101,
V.B. Nimble, V.B. QuickV.B.

Wigglesworth wakes at noon,
Washes, shaves and very soon
Is at the lab; he reads his mail,
Swings a tadpole by the tail,
Undoes his coat, removes his hat,

Dips a spider in a vat
Of alkaline, phones the press,
Tells them he is F.R.S.,
Subdivides six protocells,
Kills a rat by ringing bells,

Writes a treatise, edits two
Symposia on “Will man do?,”
Gives a lecture, audits three,
Has the sperm club in for tea,
Pensions off an ageing spore,

Cracks a test tube, takes some pure
Science and applies it, finds,
His hat, adjusts it, pulls the blinds,
Instructs the jellyfish to spawn,
And, by one o’clock, is gone.

-John Updike



0 Replies
 
Miller
 
  0  
Reply Sat 13 Nov, 2010 02:35 pm
First Fig

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends-
It gives a lovely light!

Edna St. Vincent Millay
Miller
 
  0  
Reply Sun 14 Nov, 2010 08:19 am
@Miller,
Whenever you see the hearse go by


Whenever you see the hearse go by

Whenever you see the hearse go by

And think to yourself that you're gonna die

Be merry, my friends, be merry.

They put you in a big white shirt

And cover you up with tons of dirt

Be merry, my friends, be merry.

They put you in a long shaped box

And cover you with tons of rocks

Be merry, my friends, be merry.

The worms crawl in and the worms crawl out

The ones that crawl in are lean and thin

The ones that crawl out are fat and stout

Be merry, my friends, be merry.

Your eyes fall in and your hair falls out

And your brains come tumbling down your snout

Be merry, my friends, be merry.

Anon Laughing Laughing
0 Replies
 
Miller
 
  0  
Reply Tue 16 Nov, 2010 12:15 pm
The Octopus

Tell me O Octopus, I begs,
Is those things arms, or is they legs?
I marvel at thee, Octopus;
If I were thou, I'd call me Us.

Ogden Nash
Miller
 
  0  
Reply Tue 23 Nov, 2010 10:01 am
@Miller,
Ah! Sunflower

Ah! sunflower, weary of time,
Who countest the steps of the sun,
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller’s journey is done;

Where the youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves and aspire;
Where my sunflower wishes to go.

William Blake

0 Replies
 
Miller
 
  0  
Reply Fri 26 Nov, 2010 12:08 pm
The Clod and the Pebble

'Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a heaven in hell's despair.'

So sung a little clod of clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet;
But a pebble of the brook
Warbled out these meters meet:

'Love seeketh only Self to please,
To bind another to its delight,
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a hell in heaven's despite.'

William Blake


Miller
 
  1  
Reply Sat 27 Nov, 2010 09:59 am
@Miller,
There Was an Old Man Who Supposed

There was an old Man who supposed,
That the street door was partially closed;
But some very large rats, ate his coats and his hats,
While that futile old gentleman dozed.

Edward Lear
0 Replies
 
Miller
 
  1  
Reply Tue 30 Nov, 2010 10:03 am
When I Was Fair And Young

When I was fair and young, then favor graced me.
Of many was I sought their mistress for to be.
But I did scorn them all and answered them therefore:

Go, go, go, seek some other where; importune me no more.
How many weeping eyes I made to pine in woe,
How many sighing hearts I have not skill to show,
But I the prouder grew and still this spake therefore:

Go, go, go, seek some other where, importune me no more.
Then spake fair Venus’ son, that proud victorious boy,
Saying: You dainty dame, for that you be so coy,
I will so pluck your plumes as you shall say no more:

Go, go, go, seek some other where, importune me no more.
As soon as he had said, such change grew in my breast
That neither night nor day I could take any rest.
Wherefore I did repent that I had said before:
Go, go, go, seek some other where, importune me no more.

Queen Elizabeth I


0 Replies
 
 

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