Happy BookElf

I’m so ridiculously, incandescently happy at the moment, for a variety of brilliant reasons.

As many of you know, this isn’t always the case for me. That’s why, when I am feeling happy, I tend to shout it from the rooftops. Sing it from the trees.
I’ve been trying to think of books that encapsulate this feeling, but all I can think of is moments. When Elizabeth finally accepts Darcy. When Jem realises that, yes, actually, she does love Ralph. When Sarah Burton realises she’s got the job. Absolute happiness is incredibly difficult to describe, harder still in prose I think than poetry, because this glow is something that fits better into stanzas than paragraphs.

Normally I’d turn to my old faithful John Donne for this, but I’ve found this by Christina Rossetti, that seems to fit my mood fairly well. Also, it’s my birthday next week so the title is relevant, even if the subject matter isn’t.

A Birthday
My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a watered shoot;
My heart is like an apple tree
Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love is come to me.
Raise me a dais of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves, and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves, and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.

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