Happiness - An 1842 Poem
By Bishop Heber.
- One morning in the month of May,
- I wandered o'er the hill;
- Though nature all around was gay
- My hear was heavy still.
-
- Can God I thought, the just, the great,
- These meaner creatures bless,
- And yet deny to man's estate
- The boon of happiness?
-
- Tell me ye woods, ye smiling plains,
- Ye blessed birds around,
- In which of nature's wide domains
- Can bliss for man be found?
-
- The birds wild carroled over head,
- The breeze around me blew,
- And nature's awful chorus said
- No bliss for man she knew.
-
- I questioned love, whose early ray,
- So rosy bright appears,
- And heard the timid genius say,
- His light was dimmed by tears.
-
- I questioned friendship : Friendship sighed,
- And thus her answer gave
- The few whom fortune never tried
- Were withered in the grave!
-
- I asked if vice could bliss bestow?
- Vice boasted loud and well,
- But fading from her withered brow,
- The borrowed roses fell.
-
- I sought of feeling, if her skill
- Could soothe the wounded breast;
- And found her mourning, faint and still
- For other's woes distressed!
-
- I questioned virtue; virtue sighed,
- No boon could she dispense
- Nor virtue was her name, she cried,
- But humble penitence.
-
- I questioned death the grisly shade
- Relaxed his brow severe
- And "I am happiness," he said,
- "If virtue guides thee here."
February 22, 1842. Mecklenburg Jeffersonian 1(50): 4.