Smile poems
/ page 12 of 369 /
America: A Prophecy
© William Blake
The shadowy Daughter of Urthona stood before red Orc,When fourteen suns had faintly journey'd o'er his dark abode:His food she brought in iron baskets, his drink in cups of iron:Crown'd with a helmet and dark hair the nameless female stood;A quiver with its burning stores, a bow like that of night,When pestilence is shot from heaven: no other arms she need!Invulnerable though naked, save where clouds roll round her loinsTheir awful folds in the dark air: silent she stood as night;For never from her iron tongue could voice or sound arise,But dumb till that dread day when Orc assay'd his fierce embrace
Land of Hope and Glory
© Benson Arthur Christopher
(1) 1902 Version: VI. Land of Hope and Glory. Finale (Contralto Solo and Tutti)
On a Dead Hostess
© Hilaire Belloc
Of this bad world the loveliest and the bestHas smiled and said "Good Night," and gone to rest.
The Minstrel; or, The Progress of Genius
© James Beattie
THE FIRST BOOK (excerpts) The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar! Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime Hath felt the influence of malignant star, And wag'd with Fortune an eternal war! Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, And Poverty's unconquerable bar, In life's low vale remote hath pin'd aloneThen dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown!
And yet, the languor of inglorious days Not equally oppressive is to all
To Mr. Barbauld, November 14, 1778
© Anna Lætitia Barbauld
Come, clear thy studious looks awhile, 'T is arrant treason now To wear that moping brow, When I, thy empress, bid thee smile.
To a Little Invisible Being Who is Expected Soon to Become Visible
© Anna Lætitia Barbauld
Germ of new life, whose powers expanding slowFor many a moon their full perfection wait,--Haste, precious pledge of happy love, to goAuspicious borne through life's mysterious gate.
There was a young lady of Riga
© Anonymous
There was a young lady of RigaWho smiled as she rode on a tiger; They returned from the ride With the lady inside,And the smile on the face of the tiger.
The Red River Valley
© Anonymous
From this valley they say you are going,We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile,For they say you are taking the sunshineThat brightens our pathway awhile.
Oh, the Sexual Life of the Camel
© Anonymous
Oh, the sexual life of the camelIs stranger than anyone thinks.In moments of amorous passion,He frequently buggers the Sphinx.
The Masque of B-ll--l
© Anonymous
First come I. My name is J-W-TT.There's no knowledge but I know it.I am Master of this College,What I don't know isn't knowledge.
Beauty Sat Bathing by a Spring
© Anonymous
Beauty sat bathing by a spring, Where fairest shades did hide her;The winds blew calm, the birds did sing, The cool streams ran beside her
Adieu Vain World I've Seen Enough of Thee
© Anonymous
Cheltenham. This Stone is erected By the Voluntary Contribution of Servants To the Memory of WILLIAM DAVIS, who died in the service of Major Webber, August 21st, 1798, Aged 47 years.
Dead Broke
© Anderson James
Dead broke! dead broke!--aft said in joke,Sae truth is sometimes spoken;But to the man "wha bears the gree,"'Tis onything but jokin'
An A B C, for Baby Patriots
© Ames Mary Frances Leslie
A is the Army That dies for the Queen;It's the very best Army That ever was seen,
The Campaign
© Joseph Addison
While crowds of princes your deserts proclaim,Proud in their number to enroll your name;While emperors to you commit their cause,And Anna's praises crown the vast applause,Accept, great leader, what the muse indites,That in ambitious verse records your fights,Fir'd and transported with a theme so new:Ten thousand wonders op'ning to my viewShine forth at once, sieges and storms appear,And wars and conquests fill th' important year,Rivers of blood I see, and hills of slain;An Iliad rising out of one campaign
An Account of the Greatest English Poets (complete)
© Joseph Addison
Since, dearest Harry, you will needs requestA short account of all the muse possess'd;That, down from Chaucer's days to Dryden's times,Have spent their noble rage in British rhymes;Without more preface, wrote in formal length,To speak the undertaker's want of strength,I'll try to make their sev'ral beauties known,And show their verses' worth, though not my own
The Burning Of The Leaves
© Robert Laurence Binyon
The last hollyhock's fallen tower is dust;
All the spices of June are a bitter reek,
All the extravagant riches spent and mean.
All burns! The reddest rose is a ghost;
Sparks whirl up, to expire in the mist: the wild
Fingers of fire are making corruption clean.
Sonnet LIX.
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Written Sept. 1791, during a remarkable thunder
storm, in which the moon was perfectly clear, while
the tempest gathered in various directions near the
earth.
