Smile poems
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Rejected
© Henry Lawson
You might try to drown the sorrow, but the drink has no effect;
You cannot stand the barmaid with her coarse and vulgar wit;
And so you seek the street again, and start for home direct,
When youre hit, old manhard hit.
From Lightning And Tempest
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
The spring-wind pass'd through the forest, and whispered low in the leaves,
And the cedar toss'd her head, and the oak stood firm in his pride;
The spring-wind pass'd through the town,
through the housetops, casements, and eaves,
The Rape Of Lucrece
© William Shakespeare
TO THE
RIGHT HONORABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY,
Earl of Southampton, and Baron of Tichfield.
The Bee Meeting
© Sylvia Plath
Who are these people at the bridge to meet me? They are the villagers--
The rector, the midwife, the sexton, the agent for bees.
In my sleeveless summery dress I have no protection,
And they are all gloved and covered, why did nobody tell me?
They are smiling and taking out veils tacked to ancient hats.
The Opal Month
© Virna Sheard
Now cometh October--a nut-brown maid,
Who in robes of crimson and gold arrayed
Hath taken the king's highway!
On the world she smiles--but to me it seems
Her eyes are misty with mid-summer dreams,
Or memories of the May.
Indian Summer
© Katharine Tynan
This is the sign!
This flooding splendour, golden and hyaline,
This sun a golden sea on hill and plain, --
That God forgets not, that He walks with men.
The Progress of Error
© William Cowper
Sing, muse (if such a theme, so dark, so long
May find a muse to grace it with a song),
Hermann And Dorothea - I. Kalliope
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
But the worthy landlord only smiled, and then answer'd
I shall dreadfully miss that ancient calico garment,
Genuine Indian stuff! They're not to be had any longer.
Well! I shall wear it no more. And your poor husband henceforward
Always must wear a surtout, I suppose, or commonplace jacket,
Always must put on his boots; good bye to cap and to slippers!"
Georgie Sails To-Morrow!
© Henry Clay Work
For sixteen years, a merry, laughing maiden,
I have warbl'd only songs of joy;
And in this heart, so very lightly laden,
Happy thoughts have ever found employ.
But times will change! and now there comes a sorrow,
Which bids me ev'ry joy resign:
Ode To The Poppy
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Written by a deceased friend.
NOT for the promise of the labour'd field,
In The Month When Sings The Cuckoo
© Alfred Austin
But if now I slept, I should sleep to wake
To the sleepless pang and the dreamless ache,
To the wild babe blossom within my heart,
To the darkening terror and swelling smart,
To the searching look and the words apart,
And the hint of the tell-tale cuckoo.
To The Right Hon. The Earl of Orrery, On His Promise To Sup With The Author.
© Mary Barber
Tho' the Muse had deny'd me so often before,
I ventur'd this Day to invoke her once more.
She ask'd what I wanted; I said, with Delight,
Your Lordship had promis'd to sup here To--night;
That on an Occasion so much to my Honour,
I hop'd she'd excuse me for calling upon her.
A Roman Winter-Piece
© Eugene Field
See, Thaliarch mine, how, white with snow,
Soracte mocks the sullen sky;
How, groaning loud, the woods are bowed,
And chained with frost the rivers lie.
Laughter
© Edgar Albert Guest
Laughter sort o' settles breakfast better than digestive pills;
Found it, somehow in my travels, cure for every sort of ills;
When the hired help have riled me with their slipshod, careless ways,
An' I'm bilin' mad an' cussin' an' my temper's all ablaze,
If the calf gets me to laughin' while they're teachin' him to feed
Pretty soon I'm feelin' better, 'cause I've found the cure I need.
Death & Co.
© Sylvia Plath
Two, of course there are two.
It seems perfectly natural now--
The one who never looks up, whose eyes are lidded
And balled¸ like Blake's.
Who exhibits
Ode To Liberty
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Yet, Freedom, yet, thy banner, torn but flying,
Streams like a thunder-storm against the wind.--BYRON.
I.
A glorious people vibrated again
