To my dear Sister, Mrs. C. P. on her Nuptial
We will not like those men our offerings pay
Who crown the cup, then think they crown the day.
We make no garlands, nor an altar build,
Which help not Joy, but Ostentation yield.
Where mirth is justly grounded these wild toyes
Are but a troublesome, and empty noise.
2.
But these shall be my great Solemnities,
Orinda's wishes for Cassandra's bliss.
May her Content be as unmix'd and pure
As my Affection, and like that endure;
And that strong Happiness may she still find
Not owing to her Fortune, but her Mind.
3.
May her Content and Duty be the same,
And may she know no Grief but in the name.
May his and her Pleasure and Love be so
Involv'd and growing, that we may not know
Who most Affection or most Peace engrost;
Whose Love is strongest, or whose Bliss is most.
4.
May nothing accidental e're appear
But what shall with new bonds their Souls endear;
And may they count the hours as they pass,
By their own Joys, and not by Sun or Glass:
While every day like this may Sacred prove
To Friendship, Gratitude, and Strictest Love.
poem by Katherine Philips
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Related quotes
Farewell to Folly
1 Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content;
2 The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
3 Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent;
4 The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown:
5 Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss,
6 Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.
7 The homely house that harbours quiet rest;
8 The cottage that affords no pride nor care;
9 The mean that 'grees with country music best;
10 The sweet consort of mirth and music's fare;
11 Obscured life sets down a type of bliss:
12 A mind content both crown and kingdom is.
poem by Robert Greene
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Sweet are the Thoughts that Savour of Content
Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content;
The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent;
The poor estate scorns fortune's angry frown:
Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss,
Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.
The homely house that harbours quiet rest;
The cottage that affords no pride nor care;
The mean that 'grees with country music best;
The sweet consort of mirth and music's fare;
Obscured life sets down a type of bliss:
A mind content both crown and kingdom is.
poem by Robert Greene
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Maesia's Song
SWEET are the thoughts that savor of content;
The quiet mind is richer than a crown;
Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent;
The poor estate scorns Fortune's angry frown.
Such sweet content, such minds, such sleep, such bliss,
Beggars enjoy, when princes oft do miss.
The homely house that harbors quiet rest;
The cottage that affords no pride nor care;
The mean that 'grees with country music best;
The sweet consort of mirth and music's fare;
Obscurèd life sets down a type of bliss:
A mind content both crown and kingdom is.
poem by Robert Greene
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Mother Mangala: Deity Of Deities
Mother Mangala’s temple beside the
river ‘Prachi’ dazzles with the Sun ray,
Devotees’ mind concentrated, surrendered
Under thy feet with glee, gaiety, souls
bathed with delight feel gay.
From time immemorial, remote past the
Deity of Deities pervades on the tranquil
serene sanctified glaring altar.
The Shrine is endowed, wreathed with
garlands of love, affection and with beautiful
lovely flower.
She blessth the human creatures, deities
Of Heaven as an eternal brook of pleasure,
love and affection.
Diseased, disappointed, rich, poor,
anguished pray thee to free the plight and
tention.
Thy shrine is a Heaven on Earth, Ye
Create in human beings delight and mirth.
Ye shower bliss, benevolence, love affection
Fraternity, purity on human creature,
With thy touch their souls become pure
sitting on the shrine in the lap of nature.
‘Deities of Heaven’ pray before ye to
operate the generation.
The water of “Prachi” river washes thy
feet for ever without hesitation.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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True Love Vavroovahana Patra
True love wins at end with Divine Power;
Oath of lover and beloved translated into reality with God’s Desire.
Selfless love exists for a long period;
Lovers and beloved’s love peacefully being glad.
God is the witness of love affection;
With love’s flowers beautiful is creation.
Love’s blossoms bloom in a good society;
People of the society like with gaiety.
True love is beyond wealth;
Lovers like with mirth.
It is perennial, eternally dazzles as a star;
With profound love lovers content their desires.
Soul mingles with soul, derives peace;
Souls live with Divine Bliss.
Divine power helps each other;
With optimistic inspiration contents the desire.
True love dazzles in the pages of history;
Lovers derive peace, life is flowery.
Love does not care religion;
Beautiful is God’s creation.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Love In The Guise Of Friendship
Talk not of love, it gives me pain,
For love has been my foe;
He bound me in an iron chain,
And plung'd me deep in woe.
But friendship's pure and lasting joys,
My heart was form'd to prove;
There, welcome win and wear the prize,
But never talk of love.
Your friendship much can make me blest,
O why that bliss destroy?
Why urge the only, one request
You know I will deny?
Your thought, if Love must harbour there,
Conceal it in that thought;
Nor cause me from my bosom tear
The very friend I sought.
poem by Robert Burns
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A Contented Mind
I weigh not Fortune's frown or smile,
I joy not much in earthly joys;
I seek not state, I reck not style,
I am not fond of fancy's toys;
I rest so pleased with what I have,
I wish no more, no more I crave.
I quake not at the thunder's crack,
I tremble not at noise of war,
I swoon not at the news of wrack,
I shrink not at a blazing star:
I fear not loss, I hope not gain,
I envy none, I none disdain.
I see ambition never pleased,
I see some Tantals starved in store;
I see gold's dropsy seldom eased,
I see e'en Midas gape for more.
I neither want, nor yet abound:
Enough's a feast; content is crown'd.
I feign not friendship where I hate,
I fawn not on the great in show,
I prize, I praise a mean estate,
Neither too lofty nor too low;
This, this is all my choice, my cheer,
A mind content, a conscience clear.
poem by Joshua Sylvester
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Love in the Guise of Frindship
Talk not of love, it gives me pain,
For love has been my foe;
He bound me in an iron chain,
And plung'd me deep in woe.
But friendship's pure and lasting joys,
My heart was form'd to prove;
There, welcome win and wear the prize,
But never talk of love.
Your friendship much can make me blest,
O why that bliss destroy?
Why urge the only, one request
You know I will deny?
Your thought, if Love must harbour there,
Conceal it in that thought;
Nor cause it in that thought;
Nor cause me from my bosom tear
The very friend I sought.
poem by Robert Burns
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On Content
Grant heav'n that I may chuse my bliss
If you design me worldly Happiness
Tis not Honour thats but air
Glory has but fancied light
Fame as oft speak's false as right
Riches have wings & ever dwell with care
Give me an undistemperd mind
As ye third region undisturbd by wind
Content from passions ever free
to rule ones selfs indeed a monarchy
this I request of thee
Tho all we see are fortunes apes
& change as oft as she their shapes
Tho my kinder fortune leave me
Tho my dearest friends deceive me
I in this universall tide
firm on heav'ns mercy would abide
& 'mongst ye giddy waves securely ride
Tho they should die
Who never did my love abuse
Perhaps in tears I would my passion vent
But straight again I'de be content
Remembring 'twas th' almighty's deed tho I
should my best relations loose
Ide sighing cry Heav'ns will be done
It did but lend them now it has its own.
Fortune should never be
Adored as a deity by me
She onely makes them fooles who make her great
But still content on earth intent on heav'n I'de be
an equall temper keep in ev'ry state
nor Care nor fear my destiny
Death when most dreadfull should not fright
Wn ere he comes Ide patiently submitt
Content thus in my soul should build its halcyons nest
As did thy spirit on ye waters rest
& keep an everlasting calm with in my breast.
poem by Thomas Parnell
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The Soul That Loves God Finds Him Everywhere
O thou, by long experience tried,
Near whom no grief can long abide;
My love! how full of sweet content
I pass my years of banishment!
All scenes alike engaging prove
To souls impressed with sacred love
Where'er they dwell, they dwell in thee;
In heaven, in earth, or on the sea.
To me remains nor place nor time;
My country is in every clime;
I can be calm and free from care
On any shore, since God is there.
While place we seek, or place we shun,
The soul finds happiness in none;
But, with a God to guide our way,
'Tis equal joy to go or stay.
Could I be cast where thou art not,
That were indeed a dreadful lot;
But regions none remote I call,
Secure of finding God in all.
My country, Lord, art thou alone;
Nor other can I claim or own;
The point where all my wishes meet;
My law, my love, life's only sweet!
I hold by nothing here below;
Appoint my journey and I go;
Though pierced by scorn, oppressed by pride,
I feel thee good--feel nought beside.
No frowns of men can hurtful prove
To souls on fire with heavenly love;
Though men and devils both condemn,
No gloomy days arise from them.
Ah, then! to his embrace repair;
My soul, thou art no stranger there;
There love divine shall be thy guard,
And peace and safety thy reward.
poem by William Cowper
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Lovely society Vavroovahana Patra
Love people of all religions;
Enjoy the beauty of creation.
Love the family members;
Fulfill their desires.
Help the poor delightfully;
Derive the bliss of God gaily.
God loves all innocent creatures;
With profound love fulfills their desires.
Help the destitute, patients sympathetically;
Sacrifice for the needy poor women gaily.
Sacrificing life for others live peacefully;
Derive God’s bliss gaily.
Help the widow in the society;
Love, help the orphans financially with gaiety.
Divine power increases with self sacrifice;
With profound love derive Divine bliss.
Divine bliss showers on all pure creatures;
God fulfills their desires.
Fraternity brings peace, purity, delight;
All derive love, affection in a good society.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Sonnet: As From The Darkening Gloom A Silver Dove
As from the darkening gloom a silver dove
Upsoars, and darts into the eastern light,
On pinions that nought moves but pure delight,
So fled thy soul into the realms above,
Regions of peace and everlasting love;
Where happy spirits, crown'd with circlets bright
Of starry beam, and gloriously bedight,
Taste the high joy none but the blest can prove.
There thou or joinest the immortal quire
In melodies that even heaven fair
Fill with superior bliss, or, at desire,
Of the omnipotent Father, cleav'st the air
On holy message sent -- What pleasure's higher?
Wherefore does any grief our joy impair?
poem by John Keats
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What Happiness Is
happiness
is bliss
happiness,
is when you get a new puppy
happiness,
is when you get married
happiness,
is when you go on you first date
happiness,
is making your own decisions
happiness,
is graduating
happiness,
is getting you first job
happiness,
is falling in love
happiness
is being proud of who you are
happiness
is bliss
happiness,
is glowing
happiness,
is fun
happiness,
is an amazing feeling
happiness,
is when you smile all day
happiness,
is giving someone a hug just because you can
happiness,
is that light in your eyes
happiness,
is what makes the world go around
happiness,
is bliss
True Enjoyment
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 then thou wilt be blessed, like me.
I who have made this art mine own,
A girl have chosen such as this
The blessing of the priest alone
Is wanting to complete our bliss.
Nought but my rapture is her guide,
Only for me she cares to please,--
Ne'er wanton save when by my side,
And modest when the world she sees;
That time our glow may never chill,
She yields no right through frailty;
Her favour is a favour still,
And I must ever grateful be.
Yet I'm content, and full of joy,
If she'll but grant her smile so sweet,
Or if at table she'll employ,
To pillow hers, her lover's feet,
Give me the apple that she bit,
The glass from which she drank, bestow,
And when my kiss so orders it,
Her bosom, veil'd till then, will show.
And when she wills of love to speak,
In fond and silent hours of bliss,
Words from her mouth are all I seek,
Nought else I crave,--not e'en a kiss.
With what a soul her mind is fraught,
Wreath'd round with charms unceasingly!
She's perfect,--and she fails in nought
Save in her deigning to love me.
My rev'rence throws me at her feet,
My longing throws me on her breast;
This, youth, is rapture true and sweet,
Be wise, thus seeking to be blest.
When death shall take thee from her side,
To join the angelic choir above,
In heaven's bright mansions to abide,--
No diff'rence at the change thoult prove.
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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His Majesty Accident
Accidental meetings,
accidental greetings,
accidental walks,
accidental talks,
accidental questions,
accidental answers..
But…suddenly…
What has happened?
Meetings, greetings,
walks and talks,
questions and answers
stopped being accidental.
Life has become sentimental.
Love has rushed into the circle
and quickly closed it.
Sleepless nights appeared,
calmness disappeared.
“I love you” instead of “hi”,
a wish to inspire,
a stream of desire,
a heart is on fire,
a wish to fly.
His Majesty Accident governs the Land,
playing games that were not planned.
It sometimes gives us another chance:
to live, to love, to be happy and dance.
It sometimes goes up, sometimes down,
it sometimes gives us a crown.
Everyone waits for an accident,
everyone wishes the happy end.
Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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A Christmas Wish
I CAN NOT give you happiness :
For wishes long have ceased to bring
The Fortune which to page and king
They brought in those good centuries,
When with a quaint and starry wand
Witches turned poor men's thoughts to gold
And Cinderella's carriage rolled
Through moonlight into Fairyland.
I may but wish you happiness :
Not Pleasure's dusty fruit to hnd,
But wines of Mirth and Friendship kind,
And Love, to make with you a home.
But may Our Lord whose Son has come
Now heed the wish and make it true,
Even as elves were wont to do
When wishing could bring happiness.
poem by Frederick William Harvey
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Astrophel And Stella-Eleventh Song
"Who is it that this dark night
Underneath my window plaineth?"
'It is one who from thy sight
Being, ah! exiled, disdaineth
Every other vulgar light.'
"Why, alas! and are you he?
Be not yet those fancies changed?"
'Dear, when you find change in me,
Though from me you be estranged,
Let my change to ruin be.'
"Well, in absence this will die;
Leave to see, and leave to wonder."
'Absence sure will help, If I
Can learn how myself to sunder
From what in my heart doth lie.'
"But time will these thoughts remove:
Time doth work what no man knoweth."
'Time doth as the subject prove,
With time still the affection groweth
In the faithful turtle dove.'
"What if you new beauties see?
Will not they stir new affection?"
'I will think they pictures be,
Image-like of saint's perfection,
Poorly counterfeiting thee.'
"But your reason's purest light
Bids you leave such minds to nourish."
'Dear, do reason no such spite,—
Never doth thy beauty flourish
More than in my reason's sight.'
"But the wrongs love bears will make
Love at length leave undertaking."
'No, the more fools do it shake
In a ground of so firm making,
Deeper still they drive the stake.'
"Peace! I think that some give ear;
Come no more, lest I get anger."
'Bliss, I will my bliss forbear,
Fearing, sweet, you to endanger;
But my soul shall harbour there.'
Well, begone, begone, I say,
Lest that Argus' eyes perceive you."
'O unjust Fortune's sway,
Which can make me thus to leave you,
And from louts to run away!'
poem by Philip Sidney
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Gratitude And Love To God
All are indebted much to thee,
But I far more than all,
From many a deadly snare set free,
And raised from many a fall.
Overwhelm me, from above,
Daily, with thy boundless love.
What bonds of gratitude I feel
No language can declare;
Beneath the oppressive weight I reel,
'Tis more than I can bear:
When shall I that blessing prove,
To return thee love for love?
Spirit of charity, dispense
Thy grace to every heart;
Expel all other spirits thence,
Drive self from every part;
Charity divine, draw nigh,
Break the chains in which we lie!
All selfish souls, whate'er they feign,
Have still a slavish lot;
They boast of liberty in vain,
Of love, and feel it not.
He whose bosom glows with thee,
He, and he alone, is free.
Oh blessedness, all bliss above,
When thy pure fires prevail!
Love only teaches what is love:
All other lessons fail:
We learn its name, but not its powers,
Experience only makes it ours.
poem by William Cowper
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In A World Of Nothingness You Bring Bliss (Rondel)
In a world of nothingness you bring bliss
and smile with a strange kind of beauty,
with a kind of affection in every kiss
that brightens mere discipline and duty
as life changes, changes in the way it is
while you are more than just my deputy.
In a world of nothingness you bring bliss
and smile with a strange kind of beauty,
while a earthly heaven must be like this,
where affection comes without difficulty
and together there is joy in every activity
while your sweet kindness I cannot dismiss,
in a world of nothingness you bring bliss.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Wednesday Before Easter
O Lord my God, do thou Thy holy will -
I will lie still -
I will not stir, lest I forsake Thine arm,
And break the charm
Which lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast,
In perfect rest.
Wild fancy, peace! thou must not me beguile
With thy false smile:
I know thy flatteries and thy cheating ways;
Be silent, Praise,
Blind guide with siren voice, and blinding all
That hear thy call.
Come, Self-devotion, high and pure,
Thoughts that in thankfulness endure,
Though dearest hopes are faithless found,
And dearest hearts are bursting round.
Come, Resignation, spirit meek,
And let me kiss thy placid cheek,
And read in thy pale eye serene
Their blessing, who by faith can wean
Their hearts from sense, and learn to love
God only, and the joys above.
They say, who know the life divine,
And upward gaze with eagle eyne,
That by each golden crown on high,
Rich with celestial jewelry,
Which for our Lord's redeemed is set,
There hangs a radiant coronet,
All gemmed with pure and living light,
Too dazzling for a sinner's sight,
Prepared for virgin souls, and them
Who seek the martyr's diadem.
Nor deem, who to that bliss aspire,
Must win their way through blood and fire.
The writhings of a wounded heart
Are fiercer than a foeman's dart.
Oft in Life's stillest shade reclining,
In Desolation unrepining,
Without a hope on earth to find
A mirror in an answering mind,
Meek souls there are, who little dream
Their daily strife an Angel's theme,
Or that the rod they take so calm
Shall prove in Heaven a martyr's palm.
And there are souls that seem to dwell
Above this earth--so rich a spell
Floats round their steps, where'er they move,
From hopes fulfilled and mutual love.
Such, if on high their thoughts are set,
Nor in the stream the source forget,
If prompt to quit the bliss they know,
Following the Lamb where'er He go,
By purest pleasures unbeguiled
To idolise or wife or child;
Such wedded souls our God shall own
For faultless virgins round His throne.
Thus everywhere we find our suffering God,
And where He trod
May set our steps: the Cross on Calvary
Uplifted high
Beams on the martyr host, a beacon light
In open fight.
To the still wrestlings of the lonely heart
He doth impart
The virtue of his midnight agony,
When none was nigh,
Save God and one good angel, to assuage
The tempest's rage.
Mortal! if life smile on thee, and thou find
All to thy mind,
Think, who did once from Heaven to Hell descend,
Thee to befriend:
So shalt thou dare forego, at His dear call,
Thy best, thine all.
"O Father! not My will, but Thine be done" -
So spake the Son.
Be this our charm, mellowing Earth's ruder noise
Of griefs and joys:
That we may cling for ever to Thy breast
In perfect rest!
poem by John Keble
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