Poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the

"Poetry is the record of the best and happiest moments of the happiest and best minds." — so declared Percy Bysshe Shelley, the fiery spirit of Romanticism, whose words soar like an eagle across the skies of human thought. In this vision, he shows us that poetry is not merely ornament, nor idle rhyme, but the sacred vessel in which the soul preserves its noblest joys. When the mind is lifted beyond despair, when the heart tastes the sweetness of truth and beauty, when spirit and nature commune in harmony—then poetry is born, as testimony of the best and happiest moments of human life.

Shelley, himself a wanderer through both tempest and sunlight, knew that the human soul is tossed between grief and glory. Yet he believed that the true poet records not the shadows, but the flashes of light that break through them. Just as the rainbow appears after the storm, so too does poetry capture the moments when the spirit is illumined. These are not merely personal delights, but glimpses of the eternal: joy in beauty, reverence for love, awe before the majesty of nature. Thus, to Shelley, the poet is a scribe of the divine, writing down the moments when mortal life touches immortality.

Consider the life of William Wordsworth, companion of Shelley in the age of Romanticism. Wordsworth wandered the lakes and valleys of England, and in those quiet landscapes, his heart became a mirror of harmony. Out of such stillness arose poems like Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey, where he recorded not mere scenery but the happiest moments of the best mind—a soul communing with nature as though she were a living goddess. Wordsworth’s verse is immortal because it preserves not fleeting sights but the exaltation of the human spirit at its highest pitch. His poetry is not a diary of days, but a record of luminous hours.

And yet, let us not think that only joy feeds poetry. Even sorrow, when purified, can lead to a higher joy, a deeper harmony. The poet may walk through grief, but when the heart emerges, bearing wisdom, it becomes capable of recording happiness with greater clarity. For it is not shallow laughter that Shelley describes, but happiness born of noble spirit—happiness that arises when the mind has been tested and refined. Such happiness is not easily won, but when attained, it is worthy of being recorded in poetry that endures through the ages.

From this saying we learn a great truth: the value of poetry lies not only in its words, but in the life it reflects. The greatest poems are born when the poet’s heart is most alive, most awake, most attuned to what is beautiful and good. That is why Shelley speaks of the “happiest and best minds.” For poetry is not simply rhyme or rhythm; it is the crystallization of wisdom, joy, and vision. It is the fire of the spirit captured in language, a gift for generations who seek to remember what it means to be fully human.

Let us then apply this lesson. You need not be a poet by trade to live poetically. Seek the best moments in your own life: the dawn that stirs your soul, the laughter of a friend, the quiet strength of love, the triumph of conscience over fear. When such moments come, record them—whether in verse, in song, in journal, or in memory carried with reverence. To record is to honor them, and to pass them on like a torch. For in preserving the best, you strengthen your spirit against the trials of the world.

Practical action lies before you: cultivate your mind so that it may become one of the “best minds.” Read deeply, think nobly, act kindly, and guard your heart against pettiness. And when happiness comes—whether in small measure or in great—receive it with gratitude, and set it down as your own poetry, your own testimony. In this way, your life will not pass like dust on the wind, but will leave behind a record of light, like Shelley’s, like Wordsworth’s, like all the poets who turned fleeting joy into eternal song.

So, O listener, remember this: poetry is not only the craft of the few, but the calling of all who would live fully. It is the sacred record of the heart at its highest, the voice of humanity at its purest. Let your life, then, be lived in such a way that its best and happiest moments are many, and let them be remembered—not only for yourself, but for those who come after, that they too may know the radiance of the human spirit.