As of yesterday, I have a new nephew! So even though this is not normally one of my favorite poems, I have to post it, especially since as of now, my new nephew doesn’t have a name either.
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
Hilzoy, best wishes to you and the newest member of your family.
Happiness
So early it’s still almost dark out.
I’m near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.
When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.
They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren’t saying anything, these boys.
I think if they could, they would take
each other’s arm.
It’s early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.
They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.
Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn’t enter into this.
Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.
— Raymond Carver
COngratulations!
Congratulations!
I will be doing a poetry unit with my students next month. This site has been a gold mine of poems to use. The Blake poem here, for example, with its simple language and mood of unabashed happiness, is perfect. Thank you. The poetry has been a pleasure.