John Dryden

[John Henry Dryden] (1631 - 1700 / England)

John Dryden Poems

81. Epitaph On A Nephew, In Catworth Church, Huntingdonshire 4/12/2010
82. Epilogue To The Husband His Own Cuckold 4/12/2010
83. A Song. High State And Honours To Others Impart 4/12/2010
84. Cymon And Iphigenia. From Boccace 4/12/2010
85. Eleonora : A Panegyrical 4/12/2010
86. The Hind And The Panther: Part I (Excerpts) 1/1/2004
87. Epilogue To Henry Ii. 4/12/2010
88. Life A Cheat 4/12/2010
89. Song (Sylvia The Fair, In The Bloom Of Fifteen) 1/1/2004
90. Astræa Redux. A Poem, On The Happy Restoration And Return Of His Sacred Majesty, Charles The Second 4/12/2010
91. Religio Laici 1/1/2004
92. A Song To A Fair Young Lady Going Out Of Town In The Spring 4/12/2010
93. To The Memory Of Mr Oldham 1/1/2004
94. Ode 1/1/2004
95. Marriage A-La-Mode 1/1/2004
96. Heroic Stanzas 1/1/2004
97. By A Dismal Cypress Lying: A Song From The Italian 1/1/2004
98. Why Should A Foolish Marriage Vow 1/1/2004
99. Song From An Evening's Love 1/1/2004
100. Farewell Ungrateful Traitor 1/1/2004
101. Fair Iris I Love And Hourly I Die 1/1/2004
102. Calm Was The Even, And Clear Was The Sky 1/1/2004
103. An Ode, On The Death Of Mr. Henry Purcell 1/1/2004
104. Ask Not The Cause Why Sullen Spring 1/1/2004
105. Mac Flecknoe: A Satire Upon The True-Blue Protestant Poet T 1/1/2004
106. Hidden Flame 1/1/2004
107. Alexander's Feast; Or, The Power Of Music 1/1/2004
108. Dreams 4/12/2010
109. Can Life Be A Blessing 1/1/2004
110. A Song For St. Cecilia's Day 1/1/2004
111. Ah, How Sweet It Is To Love! 1/1/2004
112. Happy The Man 1/1/2004
Best Poem of John Dryden

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 shine
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.

Read the full of Happy The Man

Ode

To the Pious Memory of the Accomplished Young Lady, Mrs Anne Killigrew,
Excellent in the Two Sister-arts of Poesy and Painting.

Thou youngest Virgin Daughter of the skies,
Made in the last promotion of the blest;
Whose palms, new-plucked from Paradise,
In spreading branches more sublimely rise,
Rich with immortal green, above the rest:
Whether, adopted to some neighbouring star,

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