Smile poems
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Table Talk
© William Cowper
A. You told me, I remember, glory, built
On selfish principles, is shame and guilt;
The Wind-Flower
© Jones Very
Thou lookest up with meek confiding eye
Upon the clouded smile of April's face,
The Wharf On ThamesSide; Winter Dawn
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Day begins cold and misty on soiled snow
That frost has ridged and crusted. Sound of steps
Comes, then a shape emerges from the mist
Without haste, trudging tracks the feet know well,
Evangeline: Part The First. IV.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Then came the evening service. The tapers gleamed from the altar.
Fervent and deep was the voice of the priest, and the people responded,
Not with their lips alone, but their hearts; and the Ave Maria
Sang they, and fell on their knees, and their souls, with devotion translated,
Rose on the ardor of prayer, like Elijah ascending to heaven.
Epistle To John Hamilton Reynolds
© John Keats
The doors all look as if they op'd themselves,
The windows as if latch'd by fays and elves,
And from them comes a silver flash of light
As from the westward of a summer's night;
Or like a beauteous woman's large blue eyes
Gone mad through olden songs and poesies.
"Let us go where there are varied crafts"
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
1
Let us go where there are varied crafts
And trades -- shashlik and chebureki,
Where trousers on a sign give us
Ode To Joy -- With Translation
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Was den grossen Ring bewohnet,
Huldige der Sympathie!
Zu den Sternen leitet sie,
Wo der Unbekannte thronet.
Her Eyes Are Wild
© William Wordsworth
I
HER eyes are wild, her head is bare,
The sun has burnt her coal-black hair;
Her eyebrows have a rusty stain,
The Last Banquet Of Antony And Cleopatra
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Thy foes had girt thee with their dead array,
O stately Alexandra! - yet the sound
Eavesdropper
© Sylvia Plath
Your brother will trim my hedges!
They darken your house,
Nosy grower,
Mole on my shoulder,
Graves of the Confederate Dead
© Henry Timrod
I
Sleep sweetly in your humble graves,
Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause;
Though yet no marble column craves
The pilgrim here to pause.
The Creole Girl; Or, The Physicians Story
© Caroline Norton
SHE came to England from the island clime
Which lies beyond the far Atlantic wave;
She died in early youth--before her time--
"Peace to her broken heart, and virgin grave!"
II.
In Imitation of Cowley : The Garden
© Alexander Pope
Fain would my Muse the flow'ry Treasures sing,
And humble glories of the youthful Spring;
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto IV.
© George Gordon Byron
I.
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
Night
© Alexander Pushkin
My voice, to which love lends a tenderness and yearing,
Disturbs night's dreamy calm ... Pale at my bedside burning,
A taper wastes away ... From out my heart there surge
Stift verses, streams of love, that hum and sing and merge.
Puttin' The Baby Away
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
EIGHT of 'em hyeah all tol' an' yet
Dese eyes o' mine is wringin' wet;
The Evening Of The Holiday
© Giacomo Leopardi
The night is mild and clear, and without wind,
And o'er the roofs, and o'er the gardens round
Thompson Of Angels
© Francis Bret Harte
It is the story of Thompson--of Thompson, the hero of Angels.
Frequently drunk was Thompson, but always polite to the stranger;
Light and free was the touch of Thompson upon his revolver;
Great the mortality incident on that lightness and freedom.
The Palace of Art
© Alfred Tennyson
And "while the world runs round and round," I said,
"Reign thou apart, a quiet king,
Still as, while Saturn whirls, his steadfast shade
Sleeps on his luminous ring."
"The Laurels"
© John Greenleaf Whittier
FROM these wild rocks I look to-day
O'er leagues of dancing waves, and see
The far, low coast-line stretch away
To where our river meets the sea.
