The "happy isles" of horace

Related poetry:

1. The Isles of Greece The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus Sprung! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set… The mountains look on Marathon And Marathon looks on the sea; And musing there an […]...
2. Merry Christmas And Happy New Year! Little cullud Rastus come a-skippin’ down de street, A-smilin’ and a-grinnin’ at every one he meet; My, oh! He was happy! Boy, but was he gay! Wishin’ “Merry Chris’mus” an’ “Happy New-Year’s Day”! Wishin’ that his wishes might every one come true- And-bless your dear heart, honey,-I wish the same to you!...
3. Horace to Pyrrha What perfumed, posie-dizened sirrah, With smiles for diet, Clasps you, O fair but faithless Pyrrha, On the quiet? For whom do you bind up your tresses, As spun-gold yellow, Meshes that go, with your caresses, To snare a fellow? How will he rail at fate capricious, And curse you duly! Yet now he deems your […]...
4. Move Eastward, Happy Earth Move eastward, happy earth, and leave Yon orange sunset waning slow: From fringes of the faded eve, O, happy planet, eastward go: Till over thy dark shoulder glow Thy silver sister world, and rise To glass herself in dewey eyes That watch me from the glen below. Ah, bear me with thee, lightly borne, Dip […]...
5. Amoretti LXXIV: Most Happy Letters Most happy letters, fram’d by skilful trade, With which that happy name was first design’d: The which three times thrice happy hath me made, With gifts of body, fortune, and of mind. The first my being to me gave by kind, From mother’s womb deriv’d by due descent, The second is my sovereign Queen most […]...
6. Happy The Man Happy the man, and happy he alone, He who can call today his own: He who, secure within, can say, Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today. Be fair or foul or rain or shine The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine. Not Heaven itself upon the past has […]...
7. Happy Is England! I Could Be Content Happy is England! I could be content To see no other verdure than its own; To feel no other breezes than are blown Through its tall woods with high romances blent; Yet do I sometimes feel a languishment For skies Italian, and an inward groan To sit upon an Alp as on a throne, And […]...
8. Going to Him! Happy letter! Going to Him! Happy letter! Tell Him Tell Him the page I didn’t write Tell Him I only said the Syntax And left the Verb and the pronoun out Tell Him just how the fingers hurried Then how they waded slow slow And then you wished you had eyes in your pages So you could […]...
9. John Horace Burleson I won the prize essay at school Here in the village, And published a novel before I was twenty-five. I went to the city for themes and to enrich my art; There married the banker’s daughter, And later became president of the bank- Always looking forward to some leisure To write an epic novel of […]...
10. Psalm XXXII: Happy the Man Happy the man to whom his God No more imputes his sin, But, washed in the Redeemer’s blood, Hath made his garments clean. Happy beyond expression he Who debts are thus discharged; And from the guilty bondage free, He feels his soul enlarged. His spirit hates deceit and lies, His words are all sincere; He […]...
11. She's happy, with a new Content She’s happy, with a new Content That feels to her like Sacrament She’s busy with an altered Care As just apprenticed to the Air She’s tearful if she weep at all For blissful Causes Most of all That Heaven permit so meek as her To such a Fate to Minister....
12. How happy I was if I could forget How happy I was if I could forget To remember how sad I am Would be an easy adversity But the recollecting of Bloom Keeps making November difficult Till I who was almost bold Lose my way like a little Child And perish of the cold....
13. How still, how happy! How still, how happy! Those are words That once would scarce agree together; I loved the plashing of the surge – The changing heaven the breezy weather, More than smooth seas and cloudless skies And solemn, soothing, softened airs That in the forest woke no sighs And from the green spray shook no tears. How […]...
14. How happy is the little Stone How happy is the little Stone That rambles in the Road alone, And doesn’t care about Careers And Exigencies never fears Whose Coat of elemental Brown A passing Universe put on, And independent as the Sun Associates or glows alone, Fulfilling absolute Decree In casual simplicity...
15. A happy lip breaks sudden A happy lip breaks sudden It doesn’t state you how It contemplated smiling Just consummated now But this one, wears its merriment So patient like a pain Fresh gilded to elude the eyes Unqualified, to scan...
16. The Happy Change How bless’d Thy creature is, O God, When with a single eye, He views the lustre of Thy Word, The dayspring from on high! Through all the storms that veil the skies And frown on earthly things, The Sun of Righteousness he eyes, With healing on His wings. Struck by that light, the human heart, […]...
17. A Happy Man When these graven lines you see, Traveller, do not pity me; Though I be among the dead, Let no mournful word be said. Children that I leave behind, And their children, all were kind; Near to them and to my wife, I was happy all my life. My three sons I married right, And their […]...
18. Happy the Lab'rer Happy the lab’rer in his Sunday clothes! In light-drab coat, smart waistcoat, well-darn’d hose, Andhat upon his head, to church he goes; As oft, with conscious pride, he downward throws A glance upon the ample cabbage rose That, stuck in button-hole, regales his nose, He envies not the gayest London beaux. In church he takes […]...
19. Child and mother O mother-my-love, if you’ll give me your hand, And go where I ask you to wander, I will lead you away to a beautiful land, The Dreamland that’s waiting out yonder. We’ll walk in a sweet posie-garden out there, Where moonlight and starlight are streaming, And the flowers and the birds are filling the air […]...
20. Horace to Melpomene Lofty and enduring is the monument I’ve reared, Come, tempests, with your bitterness assailing; And thou, corrosive blasts of time, by all things mortal feared, Thy buffets and thy rage are unavailing! I shall not altogether die; by far my greater part Shall mock man’s common fate in realms infernal; My works shall live as […]...
21. Horace iii. 13 O fountain of Bandusia, Whence crystal waters flow, With garlands gay and wine I’ll pay The sacrifice I owe; A sportive kid with budding horns I have, whose crimson blood Anon shall dye and sanctify Thy cool and babbling flood. O fountain of Bandusia, The dog-star’s hateful spell No evil brings unto the springs That […]...
22. Horace to phyllis Come, Phyllis, I’ve a cask of wine That fairly reeks with precious juices, And in your tresses you shall twine The loveliest flowers this vale produces. My cottage wears a gracious smile, The altar, decked in floral glory, Yearns for the lamb which bleats the while As though it pined for honors gory. Hither our […]...
23. Memoriam A. H. H.: 44. How fares it with the happy dead? How fares it with the happy dead? For here the man is more and more; But he forgets the days before God shut the doorways of his head. The days have vanish’d, tone and tint, And yet perhaps the hoarding sense Gives out at times (he knows not whence) A little flash, a mystic hint; […]...
24. THE SHEPHERD'S LAMENT ON yonder lofty mountain A thousand times I stand, And on my staff reclining, Look down on the smiling land. My grazing flocks then I follow, My dog protecting them well; I find myself in the valley, But how, I scarcely can tell. The whole of the meadow is cover’d With flowers of beauty rare; […]...
25. A Chaucerian Paraphrase of Horace Syn that you, Chloe, to your moder sticken, Maketh all ye yonge bacheloures full sicken; Like as a lyttel deere you ben y-hiding Whenas come lovers with theyre pityse chiding; Sothly it ben faire to give up your moder For to beare swete company with some oder; Your moder ben well enow so farre shee […]...
26. Sonnet 28: How can I then return in happy plight How can I then return in happy plight That am debarred the benefit of rest? When day’s oppression is not eased by night, But day by night, and night by day oppressed? And each, though enemies to either’s reign, Do in consent shake hands to torture me, The one by toil, the other to complain […]...
27. Horace and Lydia Reconciled HORACE When you were mine in auld lang syne, And when none else your charms might ogle, I’ll not deny, Fair nymph, that I Was happier than a Persian mogul. LYDIA Before she came that rival flame! (Was ever female creature sillier?) In those good times, Bepraised in rhymes, I was more famed than Mother […]...
28. THE HAPPY COUPLE AFTER these vernal rains That we so warmly sought, Dear wife, see how our plains With blessings sweet are fraught! We cast our distant gaze Far in the misty blue; Here gentle love still strays, Here dwells still rapture true. Thou seest whither go Yon pair of pigeons white, Where swelling violets blow Round sunny […]...
29. Happy As The Day Is Long I take the long walk up the staircase to my secret room. Today’s big news: they found Amelia Earhart’s shoe, size 9. 1992: Charlie Christian is bebopping at Minton’s in 1941. Today, the Presidential primaries have failed us once again. We’ll look for our excitement elsewhere, in the last snow That is falling, in tomorrow’s […]...
30. The happy household It’s when the birds go piping and the daylight slowly breaks, That, clamoring for his dinner, our precious baby wakes; Then it’s sleep no more for baby, and it’s sleep no more for me, For, when he wants his dinner, why it’s dinner it must be! And of that lacteal fluid he partakes with great […]...
31. God's Grandeur The world is charged with the grandeur of God. It will flame out, like shining from shook foil; It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod? Generations have trod, have trod, have trod; And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil; […]...
32. Imitations of Horace: The First Epistle of the Second Book Ne Rubeam, Pingui donatus Munere (Horace, Epistles II. i.267) While you, great patron of mankind, sustain The balanc’d world, and open all the main; Your country, chief, in arms abroad defend, At home, with morals, arts, and laws amend; How shall the Muse, from such a monarch steal An hour, and not defraud the public […]...
33. The Mountain Sprite In yonder valley there dwelt, alone, A youth, whose moments had calmly flown, ‘Till spells came o’er him, and, day and night, He was haunted and watch’d by a Mountain Sprite. As once, by moonlight, he wander’d o’er The golden sands of that Island shore, A foot-print sparkled before his sight ‘Twas the fairy foot […]...
34. Happy Dust For Margot Snow that fallest from heaven, bear me aloft on thy wings To the domes of the star-girdled Seven, the abode of Ineffable things, Quintessence of joy and of strength, that, abolishing Future and past, Mak’st the Present an infinite length, my soul all-One With the Vast, The Lone, the Unnameable God, that is […]...
35. Sonnet XXXIIII Lyke as a ship that through the Ocean wyde, By conduct of some star doth make her way. Whenas a storme hath dimd her trusty guyde. Out of her course doth wander far astray: So I whose star, that wont with her bright ray, Me to direct, with cloudes is ouercast, Doe wander now in […]...
36. The Fifth Ode Of Horace. Lib. I Quis multa gracilis te puer in Rosa Rendred almost word for word without Rhyme according to the Latin Measure, as near as the Language permit. WHAT slender Youth bedew’d with liquid odours Courts thee on Roses in some pleasant Cave, Pyrrha for whom bind’st thou In wreaths thy golden Hair, Plain in thy neatness; O […]...
37. Horace to Leuconoë I pray you not, Leuconoë, to pore With unpermitted eyes on what may be Appointed by the gods for you and me, Nor on Chaldean figures any more. ‘T were infinitely better to implore The present only:-whether Jove decree More winters yet to come, or whether he Make even this, whose hard, wave-eaten shore Shatters […]...
38. The IX Ode to Horace HORACE. While I was pleasing to your arms, Nor any youth, of happier charms, Thy snowy bosom blissful prest, Not Portia’s like me was blest. LYDIA. While for no other fair you burn’d, Nor Lydia was for Chloe scorn’d What maid was then so blest as thine? Not [xx’s] flame could equal mine. HORACE. Me […]...
39. An Allusion to Horace Well Sir, ’tis granted, I said Dryden’s Rhimes, Were stoln, unequal, nay dull many times: What foolish Patron, is there found of his, So blindly partial, to deny me this? But that his Plays, Embroider’d up and downe, With Witt, and Learning, justly pleas’d the Towne, In the same paper, I as freely owne: Yet […]...
40. Horace, Lib. I, Epist. IX, Imitated [To the right honourable Mr. Harley] Dear Dick, how e’er it comes into his head, Believes, as firmly as he does his creed, That you and I, sir, are extremely great; Though I plain Mat, you minister of state. One word from me, without all doubt, he says, Would fix his fortune in some little […]...