Smile poems
/ page 178 of 369 /
Written In The Cottage Where Burns Was Born
© John Keats
This mortal body of a thousand days
Now fills, O Burns, a space in thine own room,
Where thou didst dream alone on budded bays,
Happy and thoughtless of thy day of doom!
The Borough. Letter XIV: Inhabitants Of The Alms-House. Life Of Blaney
© George Crabbe
ground:
He gave employ that might for bread suffice,
Correct his habits and restrain his vice.
Here Blaney tried (what such man's miseries
Torso of an Archaic Apollo
© Rainer Maria Rilke
Otherwise this stone would seem defaced
beneath the translucent cascade of the shoulders
and would not glisten like a wild beasts fur:
To Autumn
© Madison Julius Cawein
I oft have net thee, Autumn, wandering
Beside a misty stream, thy locks flung wild;
Being His Mother
© James Whitcomb Riley
Being his mother--when he goes away
I would not hold him overlong, and so
Nathan The Wise - Act II
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
But out of my dilemma
'Tis not so easy to escape unhurt.
Well, you must have the knight.
Stinkomalee Triumphans
© Richard Harris Barham
WHENE'ER with pitying eye I view
Each operative sot in town.
I smile to think how wondrous few
Get drunk who study at the U-
-niversity we've Got in town,
-niversity we've Got in town.
An Heroic Epistle of Hudibras To His Lady
© Samuel Butler
I who was once as great as Caesar,
Am now reduc'd to Nebuchadnezzar;
Joan Of Arc, In Rheims
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Thou hast a charmed cup, O Fame!
A draught that mantles high,
And seems to lift this earth-born frame
Above mortality:
Away! to me a woman bring
Sweet waters from affection's spring.
To Build A Quiet City In His Mind
© Weldon Kees
To build a quiet city in his mind:
A single overwhelming wish; to build,
Not hastily, for there is so much wind,
So many eager smilers to be killed,
Obstructions one might overlook in haste:
The ruined structures cluttering the past,
Siste Viator
© Augusta Davies Webster
WHAT is it that is dead?
Somewhere there is a grave, and something lies
Cold in the ground, and stirs not for my sighs,
Nor songs that I can make, nor smiles from me,
Nor tenderest foolish words that I have said;
Something that was has hushed, and will not be.
Idyll XVII. The Praise of Ptolemy
© Theocritus
"Wake, babe, to bliss: prize me, as Phoebus doth
His azure-sphered Delos: grace the hill
Of Triops, and the Dorians' sister shores,
As king Apollo his Rhenaea's isle."
To My Readers
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
NAY, blame me not; I might have spared
Your patience many a trivial verse,
Yet these my earlier welcome shared,
So, let the better shield the worse.
To My Sister
© Sarah Flower Adams
Were it not so, I dared not give to thee
These pages; for I know full well they ne'er
Seventh Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
Go not away, thou weary soul:
Heaven has in store a precious dole
Here on Bethsaida's cold and darksome height,
Where over rocks and sands arise
Proud Sirion in the northern skies,
And Tabor's lonely peak, 'twixt thee and noonday light.
Autumn
© Samuel Johnson
Alas! with swift and silent pace,
Impatient time rolls on the year;
The Seasons change, and Nature's face
Now sweetly smiles, now frowns severe.
Gemini And Virgo
© Charles Stuart Calverley
Some vast amount of years ago,
Ere all my youth had vanished from me,
A boy it was my lot to know,
Whom his familiar friends called Tommy.
A Girls' Grave
© Patrick Edward Quinn
What story is here of broken love,
What idyllic sad romance,
What arrow fretted the silken dove
That met with such grim mischance?
The Grand Question Debated: Whether Hamiltons Bawn Should Be Turned Into A Barrack Or Malt-House
© Jonathan Swift
Thus spoke to my lady the knight full of care,
"Let me have your advice in a weighty affair.
This Hamilton's bawn, while it sticks in my hand
I lose by the house what I get by the land;
De Profundis
© Peter McArthur
NOT yet are deeds fruition of my thought,
Nor is this body symbol of my soul,
