Edna St. Vincent Millay, "Epitaph"

[sandoz-iscariot.livejournal.com]

Epitaph

Grieve not for happy Claudius, he is dead;
And empty is his skull.
Pity no longer, arm-in-arm with Dread,
Walks in that polished hall.

Joy, too, is fled.
But no man can have all.

Rita Joe (1932-2007) : Plawej ans L’nui’site’w (Partridge and Indian-Speaking Priest)

[seasight.livejournal.com]

Once there was an Indian-speaking priest
Who learned Mi’kmaw from his flock.
He spoke the language the best he knew how
But sometimes got stuck.
They called him L’nui’site’w out of respect to him
And loving the man, he meant a lot to them.
At specific times he heard their confessions
They followed the rules, walking to the little church.
A widow woman was strolling through the village
On her way there, when one hunter gave her a day-old plawej
She took the partridge, putting it inside her coat
Thanking the couple, going her way.
At confession, the priest asked, “What is that smell?”
In Mi’kmaw she said, “My plawej.”
He gave blessing and sent her on her way.
The next day he gave a long sermon, ending with the words
“Keep up the good lives you are leading,
but wash your plawejk.”
The women giggled, he never knew why.
To this day there is a saying, they laugh and cry.
Whatever you do, wherever you go
Always wash your plawejk.

"Around Us," Marvin Bell

[switchercat.livejournal.com]

We need some pines to assuage the darkness
when it blankets the mind,
we need a silvery stream that banks as smoothly
as a plane’s wing, and a worn bed of
needles to pad the rumble that fills the mind,
and a blur or two of a wild thing
that sees and is not seen. We need these things
between appointments, after work,
and, if we keep them, then someone someday,
lying down after a walk
and supper, with the fire hole wet down,
the whole night sky set at a particular
time, without numbers or hours, will cause
a little sound of thanks — a zipper or a snap —
to close round the moment and the thought
of whatever good we did.

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Request: poems that make you feel happy, even (especially?) when you might have been feeling sad before you started reading the poem.