Joy ~ Poem by Sara Teasdale

I AM wild, I will sing to the trees,
     I will sing to the stars in the sky,
  I love, I am loved, he is mine,
     Now at last I can die!

  I am sandaled with wind and with flame,
  I have heart-fire and singing to give,
  I can tread on the grass or the stars,
     Now at last I can live!

by Sara Teasdale

“Song of Joys” Poem by Walt Whitman

Song Of Joys

O to make the most jubilant song!
Full of music-full of manhood, womanhood, infancy!
Full of common employments-full of grain and trees.

O for the voices of animals-O for the swiftness and balance of fishes!
O for the dropping of raindrops in a song!
O for the sunshine and motion of waves in a song!

O the joy of my spirit-it is uncaged-it darts like lightning!
It is not enough to have this globe or a certain time,
I will have thousands of globes and all time.

O the engineer’s joys! to go with a locomotive!
To hear the hiss of steam, the merry shriek, the steam-whistle, the
laughing locomotive!
To push with resistless way and speed off in the distance.

O the gleesome saunter over fields and hillsides!
The leaves and flowers of the commonest weeds, the moist fresh
stillness of the woods,
The exquisite smell of the earth at daybreak, and all through the
forenoon.

Excerpt from Song of Joys by Walt Whitman

retrieved from: https://www.poetseers.org/early-american-poets/walt-whitman/whitmans-poetry/a-song-of-joys/index.html

 

“What Is To Come” Poem by William Ernest Henley

What is to Come

That what has been was good—was good to show,

Better to hide, and best of all to bear.

We are the masters of the days that were:

We have lived, we have loved, we have suffered . . . even so.

Shall we not take the ebb who had the flow?

Life was our friend.  Now, if it be our foe—

Dear, though it spoil and break us!—need we care

            What is to come?

Let the great winds their worst and wildest blow,

Or the gold weather round us mellow slow:

We have fulfilled ourselves, and we can dare

And we can conquer, though we may not share

In the rich quiet of the afterglow

            What is to come.

Stars – Poem of Gratitude by Sara Teasdale

Stars

by Sara Teasdale

  Alone in the night

   On a dark hill

  With pines around me

   Spicy and still,

  And a heaven full of stars

   Over my head,

  White and topaz

   And misty red;

  Myriads with beating

   Hearts of fire

  That aeons

   Cannot vex or tire;

  Up the dome of heaven

   Like a great hill,

  I watch them marching

   Stately and still,

  And I know that I

   Am honored to be

  Witness

   Of so much majesty.

“The Sunlight on the Garden” Poem by Louis MacNeice

The Sunlight on the Garden

The sunlight on the garden
Hardens and grows cold,
We cannot cage the minute
Within its nets of gold;
When all is told
We cannot beg for pardon.

Our freedom as free lances
Advances towards its end;
The earth compels, upon it
Sonnets and birds descend;
And soon, my friend,
We shall have no time for dances.

The sky was good for flying
Defying the church bells
And every evil iron
Siren and what it tells:
The earth compels,
We are dying, Egypt, dying

And not expecting pardon,
Hardened in heart anew,
But glad to have sat under
Thunder and rain with you,
And grateful too
For sunlight on the garden.

 – Louis MacNeice

“Pied Beauty” Poem by Gerard Manely Hopkins

Pied Beauty

GLORY be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim:
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and
plough;
And àll tràdes, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spare, strange;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)
With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:
Praise him.