“Fireside happiness, to hours of ease
Blest with that charm, the certainty to please.”

“To make a happy fireside clime
To weans and wife,—
That is the true pathos and sublime
Of human life.”

“O, Woman! in our hours of ease,
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,
And variable as the shade
By the light quivering aspen made;
When pain and anguish wring the brow,
A ministering angel thou!”

“Blest is that nation whose silent course of happiness furnishes nothing for history to say.”

“If happiness is anticipation with certainty, we were happy.”

“He is too blest that his own Happiness knows,
And Mortals to themselves are greatest Foes.”

“I never was someone who was at ease with happiness.”

“Tis soothing, oh! most soothing to the heart,
To rove 'mid scenes where once we have been blest!
Each tree, each blossom, has a thrilling charm;
They seem memorials of those happier hours :
The very sigh that tells they are no more,
Is sweet unto the spirit; former days,
And former feelings, rise upon the soul,
Dear as they once have been.”

“Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower
Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour
Have passed away; less happy than the one
That by the unwilling ploughshare died to prove
The tender charm of poetry and love.”

“It has been a thousand times observed, and I must observe it once more, that the hours we pass with happy prospects in view are more pleasing than those crowned with fruition.”