Happiness and Joy

An Immorality

Sing we for love and idleness,
Naught else is worth the having.


Though I have been in many a land,
There is naught else in living.


And I would rather have my sweet,
Though rose-leaves die of grieving,


Than do high deeds in Hungary
To pass all men's believing.

A Day Dream

On a sunny brae, alone I lay
One summer afternoon;
It was the marriage-time of May
With her young lover, June.


From her mother's heart, seemed loath to part
That queen of bridal charms,
But her father smiled on the fairest child
He ever held in his arms.


The trees did wave their plumy crests,
The glad birds caroled clear;
And I, of all the wedding guests,
Was only sullen there!


There was not one, but wished to shun
My aspect void of cheer;
The very grey rocks, looking on,
Asked, "What do you here?"


And I could utter no reply;
In sooth, I did not know
Why I had brought a clouded eye
To greet the general glow.


So, resting on a heathy bank,
I took my heart to me;
And we together sadly sank
Into a reverie.


We thought, "When winter comes again,
Where will these bright things be?
All vanished, like a vision vain,
An unreal mockery!


The birds that now so blithely sing,
Through deserts, frozen dry,
Poor spectres of the perished spring,
In famished troops, will fly.


And why should we be glad at all?
The leaf is hardly green,
Before a token of its fall
Is on the surface seen!"


Now, whether it were really so,
I never could be sure;
But as in fit of peevish woe,
I stretched me on the moor.


A thousand thousand gleaming fires
Seemed kindling in the air;



A thousand thousand silvery lyres
Resounded far and near:


Methought, the very breath I breathed
Was full of sparks divine,
And all my heather-couch was wreathed
By that celestial shine!


And, while the wide earth echoing rung
To their strange minstrelsy,
The little glittering spirits sung,
Or seemed to sing, to me.


"O mortal! mortal! let them die;
Let time and tears destroy,
That we may overflow the sky
With universal joy!


Let grief distract the sufferer's breast,
And night obscure his way;
They hasten him to endless rest,
And everlasting day.


To thee the world is like a tomb,
A desert's naked shore;
To us, in unimagined bloom,
It brightens more and more!


And could we lift the veil, and give
One brief glimpse to thine eye,
Thou wouldst rejoice for those that live,
Because they live to die."


The music ceased; the noonday dream,
Like dream of night, withdrew;
But Fancy, still, will sometimes deem
Her fond creation true.

We—Bee and I—live by the quaffing

230

We—Bee and I—live by the quaffing—
'Tisn't all Hock—with us—
Life has its Ale—
But it's many a lay of the Dim Burgundy—
We chant—for cheer—when the Wines—fail—


Do we "get drunk"?
Ask the jolly Clovers!
Do we "beat" our "Wife"?
I—never wed—
Bee—pledges his—in minute flagons—
Dainty—as the trees—on our deft Head—


While runs the Rhine—
He and I—revel—
First—at the vat—and latest at the Vine—
Noon—our last Cup—
"Found dead"—"of Nectar"—
By a humming Coroner—
In a By-Thyme!

To my small Hearth His fire came

638

To my small Hearth His fire came-
And all my House aglow
Did fan and rock, with sudden light'
Twas Sunrise-'twas the Sky-

Impanelled from no Summer brief-
With limit of Decay'
Twas Noon-without the News of Night-
Nay, Nature, it was Day-

'Tis so much joy! 'Tis so much joy!

172

'Tis so much joy! 'Tis so much joy!
If I should fail, what poverty!
And yet, as poor as I,
Have ventured all upon a throw!
Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so-
This side the Victory!


Life is but Life! And Death, but Death!
Bliss is, but Bliss, and Breath but Breath!
And if indeed I fail,
At least, to know the worst, is sweet!
Defeat means nothing but Defeat,
No drearier, can befall!


And if I gain! Oh Gun at Sea!
Oh Bells, that in the Steeples be!
At first, repeat it slow!
For Heaven is a different thing,
Conjectured, and waked sudden in-
And might extinguish me!

They ask but our Delight

868

They ask but our Delight-
The Darlings of the Soil
And grant us all their Countenance
For a penurious smile.

The Morning after Woe

364

The Morning after Woe'
Tis frequently the Way-
Surpasses all that rose before-
For utter Jubilee-

As Nature did not care-
And piled her Blossoms on-
And further to parade a Joy
Her Victim stared upon-

The Birds declaim their Tunes-
Pronouncing every word
Like Hammers-Did they know they fell
Like Litanies of Lead-

On here and there-a creatureThey'd
modify the Glee
To fit some Crucifixal Clef-
Some Key of Calvary-

The Bee is not afraid of me

111

The Bee is not afraid of me.
I know the Butterfly.
The pretty people in the Woods
Receive me cordially-


The Brooks laugh louder when I come-
The Breezes madder play;
Wherefore mine eye thy silver mists,
Wherefore, Oh Summer's Day?

Summer Shower

A drop fell on the apple tree,
Another on the roof;
A half a dozen kissed the eaves,
And made the gables laugh.


A few went out to help the brook,
That went to help the sea.
Myself conjectured, Were they pearls,
What necklaces could be!


The dust replaced in hoisted roads,
The birds jocoser sung;
The sunshine threw his hat away,
The orchards spangles hung.


The breezes brought dejected lutes,
And bathed them in the glee;
The East put out a single flag,
And signed the fete away.

Such is the Force of Happiness

787

Such is the Force of Happiness-
The Least-can lift a Ton
Assisted by its stimulus-

Who Misery-sustain-
No Sinew can afford-
The Cargo of Themselves-
Too infinite for Consciousness'
Slow capabilities.

Snow flakes

36

Snow flakes.

I counted till they danced so
Their slippers leaped the town,
And then I took a pencil
To note the rebels down.
And then they grew so jolly
I did resign the prig,
And ten of my once stately toes
Are marshalled for a jig!

Over the fence

251

Over the fenceStrawberries-
grow-
Over the fence-
I could climb-if I tried, I know-
Berries are nice!


But-if I stained my Apron-
God would certainly scold!
Oh, dear,-I guess if He were a BoyHe'd-
climb-if He could!

One Blessing had I than the rest

756

One Blessing had I than the rest
So larger to my Eyes
That I stopped gauging-satisfied-
For this enchanted size-

It was the limit of my Dream-
The focus of my Prayer-
A perfect-paralyzing Bliss-
Contented as Despair-

I knew no more of Want-or Cold-
Phantasms both become
For this new Value in the Soul-
Supremest Earthly Sum-

The Heaven below the Heaven above-
Obscured with ruddier BlueLife's
Latitudes leant over-full-
The Judgment perished-too-

Why Bliss so scantily disburse-
Why Paradise defer-
Why Floods be served to Us-in Bowls-
I speculate no more-

It was given to me by the Gods

454

It was given to me by the Gods-
When I was a little Girl-
They given us Presents most-you know-
When we are new-and small.
I kept it in my Hand-
I never put it down-
I did not dare to eat-or sleep-
For fear it would be gone-
I heard such words as "Rich"-
When hurrying to school-
From lips at Corners of the Streets-
And wrestled with a smile.
Rich! 'Twas Myself-was rich-
To take the name of Gold-
And Gold to own-in solid Bars-
The Difference-made me bold-

It is a lonesome Glee

774

It is a lonesome Glee-
Yet sanctifies the Mind-
With fair association-
Afar upon the Wind

A Bird to overhear
Delight without a Cause-
Arrestless as invisible-
A matter of the Skies.

Is Bliss then, such Abyss

340

Is Bliss then, such Abyss,
I must not put my foot amiss
For fear I spoil my shoe?


I'd rather suit my foot
Than save my Boot-
For yet to buy another Pair
Is possible,
At any store-


But Bliss, is sold just once.
The Patent lost
None buy it any more-
Say, Foot, decide the point-
The Lady cross, or not?
Verdict for Boot!

If this is "fading"

120

If this is "fading"
Oh let me immediately "fade"!
If this is "dying"
Bury me, in such a shroud of red!
If this is "sleep,"
On such a night
How proud to shut the eye!
Good Evening, gentle Fellow men!
Peacock presumes to die!

I think the longest Hour of all

635

I think the longest Hour of all
Is when the Cars have come-
And we are waiting for the Coach-
It seems as though the Time

Indignant-that the Joy was come-
Did block the Gilded Hands-
And would not let the Seconds by-
But slowest instant-ends-

The Pendulum begins to count-
Like little Scholars-loud-
The steps grow thicker-in the Hall-
The Heart begins to crowd-

Then I-my timid service done-
Tho' service 'twas, of Love-
Take up my little Violin-
And further North-remove.

God permit industrious angels

God permit industrious angels
Afternoons to play.
I met one, -- forgot my school-mates,
All, for him, straightaway.


God calls home the angels promptly
At the setting sun;
I missed mine. How dreary marbles,
After playing the Crown!

Expectation—is Contentment

807

Expectation—is Contentment—
Gain—Satiety—
But Satiety—Conviction
Of Necessity


Of an Austere trait in Pleasure—
Good, without alarm
Is a too established Fortune—
Danger—deepens Sum—

Did Our Best Moment last

393

Did Our Best Moment last'
Twould supersede the Heaven-
A few-and they by Risk-procure-
So this Sort-are not given-

Except as stimulants-in
Cases of Despair-
Or Stupor-The Reserve-
These Heavenly Moments are-

A Grant of the Divine-
That Certain as it ComesWithdraws-
and leaves the dazzled Soul
In her unfurnished Rooms

A happy lip-breaks sudden

353

A happy lip-breaks sudden-
It doesn't state you how
It contemplated-smiling-
Just consummated-now-
But this one, wears its merriment
So patient-like a pain-
Fresh gilded-to elude the eyes
Unqualified, to scan-

The Belle's Soliloquy

Heigh Ho! Well, the season’s over!
Once again we’ve come to Lent!
Programme’s changes from balls and parties –
Now we’re ordered to repent.
Forty days of self-denial!
Tell you what, I think it pays –
Know’t’l freshen my complexion
Going slow for forty days.

No more savoury French suppers –
Such as Madame R- can give.
Well, I need a little thinning –
Just a trifle – sure’s you live!
Sometimes been afraid my plumpness
Might grow into downright fat.
Rector urges need of fasting –
Think there’s lot of truth in that.

We must meditate, he tells us,
On our several acts of sin,
And repent them. Let me see now –
Whereabouts shall I begin!
Flirting – yes, they say ‘tis wicked;
Well, I’m awful penitent.
(Wonder if my handsome major
Goes to early Mass though Lent?)

Love of dress! I’m guilty there too –
Guess it’s my besetting sin.
Still I’m somewhat like the lillies,
For I neither toil or spin.
Forty days I’ll wear my plainest –
Could repentance be more true?
What a saving on my dresses!
They’ll make over just like new.

Pride, and worldliness and all that,
Rector bade us pray about
Every day through Lenten season,
And I mean to be devout!
Papa always talks entrenchment –
Lent is just the very thing.
Hope he’ll get enough in pocket
So we’ll move up town next spring.

Sunshine And Shadow

Life has its shadows, as well as its sun;
Its lights and its shades, all twined together.
I tried to single them out, one by one,

Single and count them, determining whether
There was less blue than there was grey,
And more of the deep night than of the day.
But dear me, dear me, my task’s but begun,
And I am not half way into the sun.

For the longer I look on the bright side of earth,
The more of the beautiful do I discover;
And really, I never knew what life was worth

Till I searched the wide storehouse of happiness over.
It is filled from the cellar well up to the skies,
With things meant to gladden the heart and the eyes.
The doors are unlocked, you can enter each room,
That lies like a beautiful garden in bloom.

Yet life has its shadow, as well as its sun;
Earth has its storehouse of joy and sorrow.
But the first is so wide – and my task’s but begun –

That the last must be left for a far-distant morrow.
I will count up the blessings God gave in a row,
But dear me! When I get through them, I know
I shall have little tine left for the rest,
For life is a swift-flowing river at best.