Smile poems
/ page 259 of 369 /The Last Reader
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
I sometimes sit beneath a tree
And read my own sweet songs;
Though naught they may to others be,
Each humble line prolongs
A tone that might have passed away
But for that scarce remembered lay.
Lights Along the Mile
© Alfred Thomas Chandler
THE NIGHT descends in glory, and adown the purple west
The young moon, like a crescent skiff, upon some fairy quest,
A Couple More Years
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
I've got a couple more years on you, baby...that's all.
I've had more chances to fly and more places to fall.
And it ain't that I'm wiser...
It's only that I've spent more time with my back to the wall.
And I've picked up a couple more years on you, baby.. that's all.
I Have Lived and I Have Loved
© Charles Mackay
I have lived and I have loved;
I have waked and I have slept;
I have sung and I have danced;
I have smiled and I have wept;
Mary Ambree
© Andrew Lang
When captaines couragious, whom death cold not daunte,
Did march to the siege of the citty of Gaunt,
They mustred their souldiers by two and by three,
And the formost in battle was Mary Ambree.
The Roll Of The De Silve Race
© Victor Marie Hugo
Sire, your highness does me grace.
This, the last portrait, bears my form and name,
And you would write this motto on the frame!
"This last, sprung from the noblest and the best,
Betrayed his plighted troth, and sold his guest!"
Songs Of The World Unborn
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Songs of the world unborn
Swelling within me, a shoot from the heart of Spring,
As I walk the ample teeming street
This tranquil and misty morn,
What is it to me you sing?
Z---------'s dream
© Anne Brontë
Unwonted weakness o'er me crept;
I sighed - nay, weaker still - I wept!
Wept, like a woman o'er the deed
I had been proud to do: -
As I had made his bosom bleed;
My own was bleeding too.
Man Who Got No Sign
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Ko-we-ha Gemini Jim taw Scorpio Salo
Taw sejno-nej-o-to-kono o-ha-na-shi-te-saw
There was Gemini Jim and Scorpio Sal they was livin' by the Golden Gate
Freezin' their nose and wearin' leather clothes and dealin' every way but straight
The Fever-Dream
© Caroline Norton
IT was a fever-dream; I lay
Awake, as in the broad bright day,
But faint and worn I drew my breath
Like those who wait for coming death;
Our Country
© Edgar Albert Guest
God grant that we shall never see
Our country slave to lust and greed;
Ode, Written On The Opening Of The Last Campaign
© Amelia Opie
Spring! thy impatient bloom restrain,
Nor wake so soon thy genial pow'r,
Address To My Infant Daughter, Dora On Being Reminded That She Was A Month Old That Day, September 1
© William Wordsworth
--HAST thou then survived-
Mild Offspring of infirm humanity,
The Front Seat
© Edgar Albert Guest
When I was but a little lad I always liked to ride,
No matter what the rig we had, right by the driver's side.
The Ghost - Book I
© Charles Churchill
With eager search to dart the soul,
Curiously vain, from pole to pole,
Ode On Venice
© George Gordon Byron
I.
Oh Venice! Venice! when thy marble walls
Are level with the waters, there shall be
A cry of nations o'er thy sunken halls,
A loud lament along the sweeping sea!
If I, a northern wanderer, weep for thee,