

The Good-Morrow By John Donne I wonder by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we loved? Were we not wean'd till then? But suck'd on country…
Happiness By Jane Kenyon There’s just no accounting for happiness, or the way it turns up like a prodigal who comes back to the dust at your…
Spring By William Blake Sound the flute! Now it's mute! Birds delight, Day and night, Nightingale, In the dale, Lark in sky, - Merrily, Merrily,…