Sleep, sleep, beauty bright, Dreaming in the joys of night Sleep, sleep in thy sleep Little sorrows sit and weep.
Sleep, sleep, beauty bright, Dreaming in the joys of night Sleep, sleep in thy sleep Little sorrows sit and weep.
I happy am
Joy is my name.
'Twas the Greeks' love of war
Turn'd Love into a boy,
And woman into a statue of stone--
And away fled every joy.
Can it be a song of joy?
O Rose, thou art sick The invisible worm, That flies in the night, In the howling storm, Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy, And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy.
How shall the summer arise in joy.
The Angel that presided oer my birth Said Little creature, formd of joy and mirth, Go, love without the help of anything on earth.
I have no name: I am but two days old. What shall I call thee? I happy am, Joy is my name. Sweet joy befall thee!
He who binds to himself a joy Does the winged life destroy; But he who kisses the joy as it flies Lives in eternity's sun rise.
The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity... and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.
Joys impregnate. Sorrows bring forth.
As the caterpillar chooses the fairest leaves to lay her eggs on, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories