What though my wingèd hours of bliss have been,
Like angel-visits, few and far between.
Pleasures of Hope, Pt. II. T. CAMBPELL
How fading are the joys we dote upon!
Like apparitions seen and gone;
But those which soonest take their flight
Are the most exquisite and strong;
Like angels' visits, short and bright,
Mortality's too weak to bear them long.
The Parting. J. NORRIS.
And these are joys, like beauty, but skin deep.
Festus, Sc. A Village Feast. P.J. BAILEY.
Joys too exquisite to last,
And yet more exquisite when past.
The Little Cloud. J. MONTGOMERY.
The joy late coming late departs.
Some Sweet Day. L.J. BATES.
There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away.
Song: There's Not a Joy. LORD BYRON.
Base Envy withers at another's joy,
And hates that excellence it cannot reach.
The Seasons: Spring. J. THOMSON.
How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown;
Within whose circuit is Elysium
And all that poets feign of bliss and joy.
King Henry VI., Pt. III. Act i. Sc. 2. SHAKESPEARE.
Sorrows remembered sweeten present joy.
The Course of Time, Bk. I. R. POLLOK.
O stay!—O stay!—
Joy so seldom weaves a chain
Like this to-night, that, oh! 'tis pain
To break its links so soon.
Fly Not Yet. T. MOORE.