Smile poems

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The Sinking Ship

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

The ship is sinking, come ye one and all.

Stand fast and so this weakness overhaul,

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The Borough. Letter XIX: The Parish-Clerk

© George Crabbe

WITH our late Vicar, and his age the same,
His clerk, hight Jachin, to his office came;
The like slow speech was his, the like tall slender

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My Annual

© Oliver Wendell Holmes

How long will this harp which you once loved to hear
Cheat your lips of a smile or your eyes of a tear?
How long stir the echoes it wakened of old,
While its strings were unbroken, untarnished its gold?

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An honest Valentine

© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

Returned from the Dead-Letter Office
THANK you for your kindness,
Lady fair and wise,
Though love's famed for blindness,

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Give Your Heart To The Hawks

© Robinson Jeffers

I

The apples hung until a wind at the equinox,

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The Bell-Founder Part III - Vicissitude And Rest

© Denis Florence MacCarthy

O Erin! thou broad-spreading valley--thou well-watered land of fresh
streams,
When I gaze on thy hills greenly sloping, where the light of such
loveliness beams,

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Father's Chore

© Edgar Albert Guest

My Pa can hit his thumbnail with a hammer and keep still;

  He can cut himself while shaving an' not swear;

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Women

© Margaret Widdemer

YOU fret and grieve and turn about
To make this world and living out,
With "This is so" and "That is so–"
Ah, sirs, we learned it long ago!

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The Veteran

© Paul Laurence Dunbar

UNDERNEATH the autumn sky,

Haltingly, the lines go by.

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Psalm Of The West

© Sidney Lanier

  Master, Master, break this ban:
  The wave lacks Thee.
  Oh, is it not to widen man
  Stretches the sea?
  Oh, must the sea-bird's idle van
  Alone be free?

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The Dwelling-Place

© Henry Vaughan

John 1:38-39

What happy secret fountain,

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On This Day I Complete My Thirty-Sixth Year

© George Gordon Byron

The fire that on my bosom preys
  Is lone as some volcanic isle; 
No torch is kindled at its blaze--
  A funeral pile.

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The Victories Of Love. Book II

© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore


II
From Lady Clitheroe To Mary Churchill

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Geraint And Enid

© Alfred Tennyson

Then Enid pondered in her heart, and said:
'I will go back a little to my lord,
And I will tell him all their caitiff talk;
For, be he wroth even to slaying me,
Far liefer by his dear hand had I die,
Than that my lord should suffer loss or shame.'

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A Woman’s Sonnets: II

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Nay, dear one, ask me not to leave thee yet.
Let me a little longer hold thy hand.
Too soon it is to bid me to forget
The joys I was so late to understand.

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Sappho I

© Sara Teasdale

MIDNIGHT, and in the darkness not a sound,
So, with hushed breathing, sleeps the autumn night;
Only the white immortal stars shall know,
Here in the house with the low-lintelled door,

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Easter Eve

© John Keble

At length the worst is o'er, and Thou art laid

 Deep in Thy darksome bed;

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The Solitary Lake

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

Ah! still a something strange and rare
O'errules this tranquil earth and air,
Casting o'er both a glamour known
To their enchanted realm alone;
Whence shines, as 'twere a spirit's face,
The sweet coy genius of the place,

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Preexistence

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

WHILE sauntering through the crowded street,
Some half-remembered face I meet,
Albeit upon no mortal shore
That face, methinks, hath smiled before.

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The Rush-Bearing At Ambleside

© Letitia Elizabeth Landon

SUMMER is come, with her leaves and her flowers—
Summer is come, with the sun on her hours;
The lark in the clouds, and the thrush on the bough,
And the dove in the thicket, make melody now.
The noon is abroad, but the shadows are cool
Where the green rushes grow in the dark forest pool.