Smile poems
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Song V. - On every tree, in every plain
© William Shenstone
On every tree, in every plain,
I trace the jovial spring in vain;
A sickly langour veils mine eyes,
And fast my waning vigour flies.
Past Hours
© Frances Anne Kemble
Two angels have them in eternal keeping.
He that beside the deep vaults of the past
Ode to Vanity
© Mary Darby Robinson
Thy breath accurs'd brought deathless woe
On Man's devoted race;
Hurl'd th' aspiring FIEND to realms below,
Who, plung'd in fell disgrace,
There deep enthrall'd in adamantine spells,
In chains of scorpions bound, for ever, ever dwells.
Right Here At Home
© James Whitcomb Riley
Right here at home, boys, in old Hoosierdom,
Where strangers allus joke us when they come,
And brag o' _their_ old States and interprize--
Yit _settle_ here; and 'fore they realize,
They're "hoosier" as the rest of us, and live
Right here at home, boys, with their past fergive!
Sir Eustace Grey
© George Crabbe
And shall I then the fact deny?
I was--thou know'st--I was begone,
Like him who fill'd the eastern throne,
To whom the Watcher cried aloud;
That royal wretch of Babylon,
Who was so guilty and so proud.
The Voyage Of St. Brendan A.D. 545 - The Buried City
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Beside that giant stream that foams and swells
Betwixt Hy-Conaill and Moyarta's shore,
And guards the isle where good Senanus dwells,
A gentle maiden dwelt in days of yore.
The Heathen Pass-ee
© Arthur Clement Hilton
Which I wish to remark,
And my language is plain,
That for plots that are dark
And not always in vain,
The heathen Pass-ee is peculiar,
And the same I would rise to explain.
Bryant Dead!
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
LO! there he lies, our Patriarch Poet, dead!
The solemn angel of eternal peace
Has waved a wand of mystery o'er his head,
Touched his strong heart, and bade his pulses cease.
The Battle of the Summer Islands : Canto 1
© Edmund Waller
Aid me, Bellona, while the dreadful fight
Betwixt a nation and two whales I write.
Seas stained with gore I sing, adventurous toil,
And how these monsters did disarm an isle.
And the Greatest of These Is War
© James Weldon Johnson
And Satan smiled, stretched out his hand, and said,
"O War, of all the scourges of humanity, I crown you chief."
And Hell rang with the acclamation of the Fiends.
The Detective
© Sylvia Plath
What was she doing when it blew in
Over the seven hills, the red furrow, the blue mountain?
Was she arranging cups? It is important.
Was she at the window, listening?
In that valley the train shrieks echo like souls on hooks.
Thoughtlessness
© Edgar Albert Guest
A little bit of hatred can spoil a score of years
And blur the eyes that ought to smile with many needless tears.
Home
© Madison Julius Cawein
Among the fields the camomile
Seems blown steam in the lightning's glare.
Unusual odors drench the air.
Night speaks above; the angry smile
Of storm within her stare.
OShea
© Alice Guerin Crist
OShea was a big railway ganger, clean-hearted, and clean-limbed and shy,
With a glint of grey hair at his temples, and smile in his Irish blue eye;
Hed but one speech for every occasion, as you told him the news of the day,
And I know I will shock pious people-but poor Tim meant no harm when hes say.
Aw! glong, go-to-hell, go-to-hell now! In a mildly expostulant way.
The Viceroy. A Ballad.
© Matthew Prior
Of Nero, tyrant, petty king,
Who heretofore did reign
In famed Hibernia, I will sing,
And in a ditty plain.
Consummatum Est
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I'VE done with all the world can give,
Whate'er its kind or measure.
(O Christ! what paltry lives we live
If toil be lord, or pleasure!).
To A Little Girl
© Edgar Albert Guest
Oh, little girl with eyes of brown
And smiles that fairly light the town,
On The Death Of Lieutenant-Colonel Buller, Killed In Flanders In 1795
© Richard Brinsley Sheridan
Scarce hush'd the sigh, scarce dried the ling'ring
tear,
The Boat On The Serchio
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Our boat is asleep on Serchio's stream,
Its sails are folded like thoughts in a dream,
The helm sways idly, hither and thither;
Dominic, the boatman, has brought the mast,
And the oars, and the sails; but tis sleeping fast,
Like a beast, unconscious of its tether.
A Pair
© Jane Taylor
Soft his existence rolls away,
To-morrow plenteous as to-day :
He lives, enjoys, and lives anew,--
And when he dies,--what shall we do !
