Smile poems
/ page 111 of 369 /Shadow-of-a-Leaf
© Alfred Noyes
Bird, squirrel, bee, and the thing that was like no other
Played in the woods that day,
Talked in the heart of the woods, as brother to brother,
And prayed as children pray,
Make me a garland, Lady, a garland, Mother,
For this wild rood of may.
Just Half Of That, Please
© Edgar Albert Guest
Grandmother says when I pass her the cake:
"Just half of that, please."
To Thomas Moore (My Boat Is On The Shore)
© George Gordon Byron
I.
My boat is on the shore,
And my bark is on the sea;
But before I go, Tom Moore,
Here's a double health to thee!
The Ploughman
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
CLEAR the brown path, to meet his coulter's gleam!
Lo! on he comes, behind his smoking team,
With toil's bright dew-drops on his sunburnt brow,
The lord of earth, the hero of the plough!
Six Sonnets On Dante's Divine Comedy
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I
Oft have I seen at some cathedral door
Admetus: To my friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson
© Emma Lazarus
He who could beard the lion in his lair,
To bind him for a girl, and tame the boar,
A Dirge
© Edith Nesbit
LET Summer go
To other gardens; here we have no need of her.
She smiles and beckons, but we take no heed of her,
Who love not Summer, but bare boughs and snow,
A Living Picture
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
No, I'll not say your name. I have said it now,
As you mine, first in childish treble, then
Up through a score and more familiar years
Till baby-voices mock us. Time may come
Sordello: Book the Sixth
© Robert Browning
The thought of Eglamor's least like a thought,
And yet a false one, was, "Man shrinks to nought
At The Close Of A Course Of Lectures
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
As the voice of the watch to the mariner's dream,
As the footstep of Spring on the ice-girdled stream,
There comes a soft footstep, a whisper, to me,--
The vision is over,--the rivulet free.
The Lone Red Rock
© Henry Herbert Knibbs
A song of the range, an old-time song,
To the patter of pony's feet,
Pride
© William Henry Drummond
Ma fader he spik to me long ago,
"Alphonse, it is better go leetle slow,
To My Eldest Brother, With The British Army In Portugal
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Does memory's pencil oft, in mellowing hue,
Dear social scenes, departed joys renew;
In softer tints delighting to retrace,
Each tender image and each well-known face?
Yes! wanderer, yes! thy spirit flies to those,
Whose love unalter'd, warm and faithful glows!
The Stranger In Louisiana
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
We saw thee, O stranger, and wept!
We look'd for the youth of the sunny glance,