"How good God is to me," he said;
"For have I not a mansion tall,
With trees and lawns of velvet tread,
And happy helpers at my call?
With beauty is my life abrim,
With tranquil hours and dreams apart;
You wonder that I yield to Him
That best of prayers, a grateful heart?"

"How good God is to me," he said;
"For look! though gone is all my wealth,
How sweet it is to earn one's bread
With brawny arms and brimming health.
Oh, now I know the joy of strife!
To sleep so sound, to wake so fit.
Ah yes, how glorious is life!
I thank Him for each day of it."

"How good God is to me," he said;
"Though health and wealth are gone, it's true;
Things might be worse, I might be dead,
And here I'm living, laughing too.
Serene beneath the evening ...

Cannot happiness perfect be found on this earth?
How absurd to expect it - sin comes with our birth.
As soon from spring bitter, sweet water procure,
Rich clusters of grapes from the thorn;
Look for figs upon thistles, when seeking for food,
Or bread from the cold flinty stone.
The wealth of the Indies, true peace can't bestow,
The Crown Royal oft presses an aching brow,
E'en in laughter there's madness - mirth coupled with woe.

As true peace in this world, then, can never be found,
Until deep in the heart Christian graces abound,
Give diligent heed to the keeping thy heart;
Unwearied in effort, repel every dart
So dextrously pointed by Satan's black art.
True peace is from Heaven - a child of the skies,
And feeble exertions secure not the prize.
...

Upon my smile let none pass compliment
    If it but gleam like an enchanting ray
    Of sunshine caught from some sweet summer day,
    In atmosphere of rose and jasmine scent
And breath of honeysuckles redolent,
    When, with the birds that sing their lives away
    In harmony, the treetops bend and sway,
And all the world with joy is eloquent.

But in that day of gloom when skies severe
    Portend the tempest gathering overhead,
If by my face some token shall appear
    Inspiring hope, dispelling darksome dread,
    Oh, be the rapture mine that it be said,
"Her smile is like the rainbow, full of cheer."

"Happy, happy it is to be
Where the greenwood hangs o'er the dark blue sea;
To roam in the moonbeams clear and still
And dance with the elves
Over dale and hill;
To taste their cups, and with them roam
The field for dewdrops and honeycomb.
Climb then, and come, as quick as you can,
And dwell with the fairies, Elizabeth Ann!

"Never, never, comes tear or sorrow,
In the mansions old where the fairies dwell;
But only the harping of their sweet harp-strings,
And the lonesome stroke of a distant bell,
Where upon hills of thyme and heather,
The shepherd sits with his wandering sheep;
And the curlew wails, and the skylark hovers
Over the sand where the conies creep;
Climb then, and come, as quick as you can,
And dwell with the fairies, Elizabeth Ann!"

Here's to Music,
Joy of joys!
One man's music's
Another man's noise.

Joy's is the magic sweet,
That makes Youth's pulses beat,
Puts music in young feet,
The old heart hears, the sad heart hears, that 's near it:

And Joy's the pleasant pain,
That holds us, heart and brain,
When Old Age, sound and sane,
With memories nears, long memories nears the spirit.

Joy's is the witchery rare,
That on the face of Care
Puts smiles; and rapture where
Love holds her breath, her heart's wild breath, to still her:

And Joy it is that plays
On Time's old lute of days
As Life goes on her ways
With thoughts of Death, gray thoughts of Death, that chill her.

There is gladness in his gladness, when he's glad,
There is sadness in his sadness, when he's sad;
But the gladness in his gladness,
Nor the sadness in his sadness,
Isn't a marker to his madness when he's mad.

A Short Poem or Else Not Say I

True pleasure breathes not city air,
Nor in Art's temples dwells,
In palaces and towers where
The voice of Grandeur dwells.

No! Seek it where high Nature holds
Her court 'mid stately groves,
Where she her majesty unfolds,
And in fresh beauty moves;

Where thousand birds of sweetest song,
The wildly rushing storm
And hundred streams which glide along,
Her mighty concert form!

Go where the woods in beauty sleep
Bathed in pale Luna's light,
Or where among their branches sweep
The hollow sounds of night.

Go where the warbling nightingale
In gushes rich doth sing,
Till all the lonely, quiet vale
With melody doth ring.

Go, sit upon a mountain steep,
And view the prospect ...

The Sloth en-joys a life of Ease;
He hangs in-vert-ed from the trees,
And views life up-side down.
If you, my child, are noth-ing loath
To live in In-dol-ence and Sloth,
Un-heed-ing the World's frown,
You, too, un-vexed by Toil and Strife,
May take a hu-mor-ous view of life.

And "Happy! Happy! Happy!"
Rang the bells of all the hours;
"Shyly! Shyly! Shyly!"
Looked and listened all the flowers;
They were wakened from their slumbers,
By the footsteps of the fair;
And they smiled in their awaking
On the faces gathered there.

"Brightly! Brightly! Brightly!"
Looked the overhanging trees,
For beneath their bending branches
Floated tresses in the breeze.
And they wondered who had wandered
With such voices and so gay;
And their leaflets seemed to whisper
To each other: "Who are they?"

They were just like little children,
Not a sorrow's shade was there;
And "Merry! Merry! Merry!"
Rang their laughter thro' the air.
There was not a brow grief-darkened,
Was there there a heart in pain?
But "Happy! Happ...

Fierce passions discompose the mind,
As tempests vex the sea:
But calm content and peace we find,
When, Lord, we turn to thee.


In vain by reason and by rule
We try to bend the will;
For none but in the Saviour’s school
Can learn the heavenly skill.


Since at his feet my soul has sat,
His gracious words to hear,
Contented with my present state,
I cast on him my care.


“Art thou a sinner, soul?” he said,
“Then how canst thou complain?
How light thy troubles here, if weigh’d
With everlasting pain!


“If thou of murmuring wouldst be cured,
Compare thy griefs with mine;
Think what my love for thee endured,
And thou wilt not repine.


“‘Tis I appoint thy daily lot,
And I do all things wel...

There is no summit you may not attain,
    No purpose which you may not yet achieve,
    If you will wait serenely and believe.
Each seeming loss is but a step to'rd gain.

Between the mountain-tops lie vale and plain;
    Let nothing make you question, doubt, or grieve;
    Give only good, and good alone receive;
And as you welcome joy, so welcome pain.

That which you most desire awaits your word;
    Throw wide the door and bid it enter in.
Speak, and the strong vibrations shall be stirred;
    Speak, and above earth's loud, unmeaning din
Your silent declarations shall be heard.
    All things are possible to God's own kin.

("Oui, le bonheur bien vite a passé.")

[Bk. V. ii., February, 1821.]


Yes, Happiness hath left me soon behind!
Alas! we all pursue its steps! and when
We've sunk to rest within its arms entwined,
Like the Phoenician virgin, wake, and find
Ourselves alone again.

Then, through the distant future's boundless space,
We seek the lost companion of our days:
"Return, return!" we cry, and lo, apace
Pleasure appears! but not to fill the place
Of that we mourn always.

I, should unhallowed Pleasure woo me now,
Will to the wanton sorc'ress say, "Begone!
Respect the cypress on my mournful brow,
Lost Happiness hath left regret - but thou
Leavest remorse, alone."

Yet, haply lest I check the mounting fire,
O friends, ...

Let's live in haste; use pleasures while we may;
Could life return, 'twould never lose a day.

From "One Day and Another"

What little things are those
That hold our happiness!
A smile, a glance, a rose
Dropped from her hair or dress;
A word, a look, a touch,
These are so much, so much.

An air we can't forget;
A sunset's gold that gleams;
A spray of mignonette,
Will fill the soul with dreams
More than all history says,
Or romance of old days.

For of the human heart,
Not brain, is memory;
These things it makes a part
Of its own entity;
The joys, the pains whereof
Are the very food of love.

Of all the sweet visions that come unto me
Of happy refreshment by land or by sea,
Like oases where in life's desert I roam,
Is nothing so pleasant as Holiday Home.

I climb to the top of the highest of hills
And look to the west with affectionate thrills,
And fancy I stand by the emerald side
Of charming Geneva, like Switzerland's pride.

In distant perspective unruffled it lies,
Except for the packet that paddles and plies,
And puffing its way like a pioneer makes
Its daily go-round o'er this pearl of the lakes.

Untroubled except for the urchins that come
From many a haunt that is never a home,
Instinctive as ducklings to swim and to wade,
Scarce knowing aforetime why water was made.

All placid except for the dip of the oar
Of the ...

From "One Day and Another"


What little things are those
That hold our happiness!
A smile, a glance, a rose
Dropped from her hair or dress;
A word, a look, a touch, -
These are so much, so much.

An air we can't forget;
A sunset's gold that gleams;
A spray of mignonette,
Will fill the soul with dreams
More than all history says,
Or romance of old days.

For of the human heart,
Not brain, is memory;
These things it makes a part
Of its own entity;
The joys, the pains whereof
Are the very food of love.

VAINLY wouldst thou, to gain a heart,

Heap up a maiden's lap with gold;
The joys of love thou must impart,

Wouldst thou e'er see those joys unfold.
The voices of the throng gold buys,

No single heart 'twill win for thee;
Wouldst thou a maiden make thy prize,

Thyself alone the bribe must be.

If by no sacred tie thou'rt bound,

Oh youth, thou must thyself restrain!
Well may true liberty be found,

Tho' man may seem to wear a chain.
Let one alone inflame thee e'er,

And if her heart with love o'erflows,
Let tenderness unite you there,

If duty's self no fetter knows.

First feel, oh youth! A girl then find

Worthy thy choice, let her choose thee,
In body fair, and fair in mind,

And t...