What is happiness to me? Fragile, tiny, furtive things, Gossamers, with fairy wings Held with my heart a breath, Just a memory, until death. What is happiness, who knows? Whence it comes and where it goes, Just a whispering, so brief, Like the falling of a leaf. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUNDAY NIGHT by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE PRIESTHOOD by GEORGE HERBERT THE CARELESS GALLANT by THOMAS JORDAN ROSALIND'S MADRIGAL, FR. ROSALIND [ROSALYNDE] by THOMAS LODGE AFTER DEATH by FRANCES ISABEL PARNELL DARDANELLES by THEODORE AUBANEL CHARLES EDWARD AT VERSAILLES ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF CULLODEN by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN |