Smile poems
/ page 138 of 369 /
Blind Sorrow
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
One bitter time of mourning, I remember,
When day, and night, my sad heart did complain,
My life, I said, was one cold, bleak December,
And all its pleasures, were but whited pain.
April
© Hilaire Belloc
The month has treacherous clouds and moves in fears.
This April shames the month itself with smiles:
In whose new eyes I know no heaven of tears,
But still serene desire and between whiles,
So great a look that even April's grace
Makes only marvel at her only face.
Disenchantment Of Death
© Madison Julius Cawein
Hush! She is dead! Tread gently as the light
Foots dim the weary room. Thou shalt behold.
Look:--In death's ermine pomp of awful white,
Pale passion of pulseless slumber virgin cold:
Bold, beautiful youth proud as heroic Might--
Death! and how death hath made it vastly old.
Youth And Manhood
© Henry Timrod
Another year! a short one, if it flow
Like that just past,
And I shall stand - if years can make me so -
A man at last.
Sonnet XVII: Why Should I Sing in Verse
© Samuel Daniel
Why should I sing in verse, why should I frame
These sad neglected notes for her dear sake?
Archduchess Anne
© George Meredith
In middle age an evil thing
Befell Archduchess Anne:
She looked outside her wedding-ring
Upon a princely man.
The Prison Bell
© Owen Suffolk
Hark to the bell of sorrow! - 'tis awak'ning up again
Each broken spirit from its brief forgetfulness of pain.
The Ballad[e] Of Imitation
© Henry Austin Dobson
POSTSCRIPTUM-And you, whom we all so adore,
Dear Critics, whose verdicts are always so new!-
One word in your ear. There were Critics before . . .
And the man who plants cabbages imitates, too!
Home, Sweet Home
© John Howard Payne
Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home;
A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there,
Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere.
Home, home, sweet, sweet home!
There's no place like home, oh, there's no place like home!
The Two Angels. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Two angels, one of Life and one of Death,
Passed o'er our village as the morning broke;
The dawn was on their faces, and beneath,
The sombre houses hearsed with plumes of smoke.
Miss Blanche Says
© Francis Bret Harte
And you are the poet, and so you want
Something--what is it?--a theme, a fancy?
Ode to Women
© John Logan
Ye virgins! fond to be admired,
With mighty rage of conquest fired,
And universal sway;
Who heave th' uncover'd bosom high,
And roll a fond, inviting eye,
On all the circle gay!
OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII (Entire)
© Alfred Tennyson
Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And thou hast made him: thou art just.
The Mothers Secret
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
But Mary, faithful to its lightest word,
Kept in her heart the sayings she had heard,
Till the dread morning rent the Temple's veil,
And shuddering earth confirmed the wondrous tale.
Builders Of Ruins
© Alice Meynell
We build with strength and deep tower wall
That shall be shattered thus and thus.
And fair and great are court and hall,
But how fair-this is not for us,
Who know the lack that lurks in all.
Venetian Night
© Arthur Symons
Her eyes in the darkness shone, in the twilight shed
By the gondola bent like the darkness over her head.
Little Nellie In The Prison
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
The chaplain, with a father's gentlest grace,
Kissed the small ruffled brow, the pleading face:
"Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings still,
Praise is perfected," thought he; thus, his will
Blended with hers, and through those gates of sin,
Black, even at noontide, sire and child passed in.
