Smile poems
/ page 156 of 369 /The Linden On The Lawn
© William Barnes
No! Jenny, there's noo pleäce to charm
My mind lik' yours at Woakland farm,
Spring In Canada
© William Wilfred Campbell
SEASON of life's renewal, love's rebirth,
And all hope's young espousals; in your dream,
I feel once more the ancient stirrings of Earth.
Two Visits To A Grave
© Richard Monckton Milnes
I stood by the grave of one beloved,
On a chill and windless night,--
When not a blade of grass was moved,
In its rigid sheath of white.
To Mr. Addison on His Tragedy of Cato
© Thomas Tickell
Too long hath love engross'd Britannia's stage,
And sunk to softness all our tragic rage:
The Helot
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
Low the sun beat on the land,
Red on vine and plain and wood;
With the wine-cup in his hand,
Vast the Helot herdsman stood.
Orpheus
© Emma Lazarus
ORPHEUS.
LAUGHTER and dance, and sounds of harp and lyre,
Piping of flutes, singing of festal songs,
Ribbons of flame from flaunting torches, dulled
The Passionate Pilgrim
© William Shakespeare
Her lips to mine how often hath she joined,
Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing!
How many tales to please me bath she coined,
Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing!
Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings,
Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jestings.
Thanksgiving
© James Whitcomb Riley
Let us be thankful--not only because
Since last our universal thanks were told
We have grown greater in the world's applause,
And fortune's newer smiles surpass the old--
The Toll-Mans Daughter
© Madison Julius Cawein
Once more the June with her great moon
Poured harvest o'er the golden fields;
The Lady of the Lake: Canto VI. - The Guardroom
© Sir Walter Scott
Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule
Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl,
That there 's wrath and despair in the jolly black-jack,
And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack;
Yet whoop, Barnaby! off with thy liquor,
Drink upsees out, and a fig for the vicar!
Runnamede, A Tragedy. Prologue
© John Logan
Yet lost to fame is virtue's orient reign;
The patriot lived, the hero died in vain,
Dark night descended o'er the human day,
And wiped the glory of the world away:
Whirled round the gulf, the acts of time were tost,
Then in the vast abyss for ever lost.
Summer Noontide
© Madison Julius Cawein
The slender snail clings to the leaf,
Gray on its silvered underside:
And slowly, slowlier than the snail, with brief
Bright steps, whose ripening touch foretells the sheaf,
Her warm hands berry-dyed,
Comes down the tanned Noontide.
Writin' Back To The Home-Folks
© James Whitcomb Riley
My dear old friends--It jes beats all,
The way you write a letter
Dream-Land (II)
© Frances Anne Kemble
When in my dreams thy lovely face,
Smiles with unwonted tender grace,
One Day And Another: A Lyrical Eclogue Part III
© Madison Julius Cawein
I seem to see her still; to see
That dim blue room. Her perfume comes
From lavender folds draped dreamily--
One blossom of brocaded blooms--
Some stuff of orient looms.
To Aunt Rose
© Allen Ginsberg
Aunt Rose
Hitler is dead, Hitler is in Eternity; Hitler is with
Tamburlane and Emily Brontë
Lines To A Lady Weeping
© George Gordon Byron
Weep, daughter of a royal line,
A Sire's disgrace, a realm's decay;
Ah! happy if each tear of thine
Could wash a father's fault away!
Elegy VIII. He Describes His Early Love of Poetry, and Its Consequences
© William Shenstone
Ah me! what envious magic thins my fold?
What mutter'd spell retards their late increase?
Such lessening fleeces must the swain behold,
That e'er with Doric pipe essays to please.
Pleading For Mercy
© John Newton
In mercy, not in wrath, rebuke
Thy feeble worm, my God!
My spirit dreads thine angry look,
And trembles at thy rod.