Smile poems
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The Little Children
© Francis Ledwidge
Hunger points a bony finger
To the workhouse on the hill,
But the little children linger
While there's flowers to gather still
For my sunny window sill.
The Glory Of Age
© Edgar Albert Guest
"What is the glory of age?" I said,
"A hoard of gold and a few dear friends?
When you've reached the day that you look ahead
And see the place where your journey ends,
When Time has robbed you of youthful might--
What is the secret of your delight?"
Dancing
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
DANCING! I love it, night or day:
There's nought on earth so jolly,
Whether you straightly glide with May,
Or madly whirl with Molly,
Metamorphoses: Book The Ninth
© Ovid
The End of the Ninth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
With My Fatherland
© Hovhannes Toumanian
Your wounds are countless, O my land, yet still alive are you.
The cherished words we have waited for are already breaking through
Your lips compressed with sorrow; we believe that on the way
Destined to you by God and Fate-those words you'll find and say.
We wait with fervour for your call-anon, Anon we hear it;
You will become a promised land, free both, in flesh and spirit,
To Bert Leston Taylor
© Franklin Pierce Adams
_If that these vagrant verses make
One heart more glad; if they but bring
A single smile, for that One's sake
I should be satisfied to sing.
As Locker said, in phrasing fitter,
Pleased if but One should like the twitter.
The Ode of Tarafah
© Tarafah ibn al Abd
A young gazelle there is in the tribe, dark-lipped, fruit-shaking,
flaunting a double necklace of pearls and topazes,
Peinture. A Panegyrick To The best Picture Of Friendship, M
© Richard Lovelace
If Pliny, Lord High Treasurer of al
Natures exchequer shuffled in this our ball,
Peinture her richer rival did admire,
And cry'd she wrought with more almighty fire,
The Pinafore
© George MacDonald
When peevish flaws his soul have stirred
To fretful tears for crossed desires,
Obedient to his mother's word
My child to banishment retires.
The Grave By The Lake
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Where the Great Lake's sunny smiles
Dimple round its hundred isles,
And the mountain's granite ledge
Cleaves the water like a wedge,
Ringed about with smooth, gray stones,
Rest the giant's mighty bones.
The Ring And The Book - Chapter IV - Tertium Quid
© Robert Browning
Is so far clear? You know Violante now,
Compute her capability of crime
By this authentic instance? Black hard cold
Crime like a stone you kick up with your foot
I the middle of a field?
The Sword Of Pain
© George Essex Evans
The Lights burn dim and make weird shadow-play,
The white walls of the ward are changed to grey,
Colin's Mistakes. Written In Imitation Of Spenser's Style
© Matthew Prior
Fast by the banks of Cam was Colin bred,
(Ye Nymphs, for every guard that sacred stream)
Metaphysics
© Franklin Pierce Adams
A man morose and dull and sad--
Go ask him why he feels so bad.
Behold! He answers it is drink
That put his nerves upon the blink.
The Happy Birds Nest
© George Moses Horton
When on my cottage falls the placid shower,
When ev'ning calls the labourer home to rest,
When glad the bee deserts the humid flower,
O then the bird assumes her peaceful nest.
Abner And The Widow Jones
© Robert Bloomfield
Well! I'm determin'd; that's enough:-
Gee, Bayard! move your poor old bones,
I'll take to-morrow, smooth or rough,
To go and court the Widow Jones.
The Dreams That Came True
© Jean Ingelow
I saw in a vision once, our mother-sphere
The world, her fixed foredooméd oval tracing,
Rolling and rolling on and resting never,
While like a phantom fell, behind her pacing
The unfurled flag of night, her shadow drear
Fled as she fled and hung to her forever.
Sleep
© Edward Young
Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep, -
He, like the world, his ready visit pays
Where fortune smiles: the wretched he forsakes,
And lights on lids unsullied by a tear.
"Behold Vale! I Said, When I Shall Con"
© William Wordsworth
"Beloved Vale!" I said, "when I shall con
Those many records of my childish years,
