Smile poems
/ page 233 of 369 /
The Runaways/ Les Effares
© Arthur Rimbaud
Dark against the snow and fog,
At the big lit-up vent,
Their butts in a huddle,
Five urchins, kneeling - wretched! -
Watch the baker making
Loaves of heavy blond bread.
The Ant
© Richard Lovelace
Forbear, thou great good husband, little ant;
A little respite from thy flood of sweat!
Thou, thine own horse and cart under this plant,
Thy spacious tent, fan thy prodigious heat;
Down with thy double load of that one grain!
It is a granarie for all thy train.
No Boy Knows
© James Whitcomb Riley
There are many things that boys may know--
Why this and that are thus and so,--
A Birthday Tribute
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
WHO is the shepherd sent to lead,
Through pastures green, the Master's sheep?
What guileless "Israelite indeed"
The folded flock may watch and keep?
The Uncultured Rhymer To His Cultured Critics
© Henry Lawson
Fight through ignorance, want, and care
Through the griefs that crush the spirit;
Magi
© Sylvia Plath
The abstracts hover like dull angels:
Nothing so vulgar as a nose or an eye
Bossing the ethereal blanks of their face-ovals.
The Yellow Violet
© William Cullen Bryant
When beechen buds begin to swell,
And woods the blue-bird's warble know,
The yellow violet's modest bell
Peeps from last-year's leaves below.
The Wolf And The Lamb
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
She had hair gold as her father's corn;
She tripped and sung,
The Last Caesar
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
In the Elysée, and had lost the day
But that around him flocked his birds of prey,
Sharp-beaked, voracious, hungry for the deed.
'Twixt hope and fear beheld great Cæsar hang!
Meanwhile, methinks, a ghostly laughter rang
Through the rotunda of the Invalides.
The Future Of Hands
© Larry Levis
And writing this,
I stare at my hands,
Which are the chroniclers of my death,
Which pull me into this paper
Each night, as onto a bed of silk sheets,
And the woman gone.
The Cathedral tombs
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
THEY lie, with upraised hands, and feet
Stretched like dead feet that walk no more,
And stony masks oft human sweet,
As if the olden look each wore,
Familiar curves of lip and eye,
Were wrought by some fond memory.
Christ
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
But Truth, and Truth's great Master cannot die;
While Love, the seraph, free of wings and eyes,
Upsweeps the realm of calm immensity.
A thousand times our buried shall rise
In prayerful souls to hush their anguished sighs,
And dawn, not darkness, rule o'er earth and sky.
Four Riddles
© Lewis Carroll
I
There was an ancient City, stricken down
With a strange frenzy, and for many a day
They paced from morn to eve the crowded town,
And danced the night away.
Ghost Stories
© Madison Julius Cawein
When the hoot of the owl comes over the hill,
At twelve o'clock when the night is still,
Of The Nature Of Things: Book II - Part 03 - Atomic Forms And Their Combinations
© Lucretius
Now come, and next hereafter apprehend
What sorts, how vastly different in form,
What Sort Of A Friend Are You?
© Edgar Albert Guest
What sort of a friend are you?
Do you stick by a brother's side,
Show Me The Place
© Christian Frederik Louis Leipoldt
Show me the place where we stood side by side,
Once, when you were mine -
Autumn Wealth
© Kristijonas Donelaitis
Of course, there is no lack of faithful Christians ,too.
Most of Lithuanians are men of good character;
They love their families, obey the will of God.
Each day live saintly lives, steer clear of all misdeeds,
And rule their modest homes with kind parental care.
Love Recalled in Sleep
© Robert Fuller Murray
There was a time when in your face
There dwelt such power, and in your smile
I know not what of magic grace;
They held me captive for a while.
