1 min read
Слушать(AI)Happy the man
Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call today his own:
He who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.
Be fair or foul or rain or
The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine.
Not Heaven itself upon the past has power,
But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
John Henry Dryden
John Dryden (/ˈdraɪdən/; 19 August [O.S. 9 August] 1631 – 12 May [O.S. 1 May] 1700) was an English poet, literary critic, translator, and playw
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Eleonora A Panegyrical
Dedicated to the Memory of the Late Countess of Abingdon As when some great and gracious monarch dies, Soft whispers first and mournful Among the sad attendants; then the
Epitaph on the Monument of a Fair Maiden Lady Who Died at Bath and is There Interred
Below this marble monument is laid All that heaven wants of this celestial maid Preserve, O sacred tomb, thy trust consigned; The mould was made on purpose for the mind:
Your hay it is mowd and your corn is reapd
(Comus ) Your hay it is mow'd, and your corn is reap'd; Your barns will be full, and your hovels heap'd: Come, my boys, come; Come, my boys, come; And merrily roar out Harvest Home (Chorus ) Come, my boys, come; Come, my boys, come;...
Upon the Death of Lord Hastings
Must noble Hastings immaturely die, The honour of his ancient family, Beauty and learning thus together meet, To bring a winding for a wedding sheet
