Smile poems
/ page 304 of 369 /
The three tailors
© Eugene Field
I shall tell you in rhyme how, once on a time,
Three tailors tramped up to the inn Ingleheim,
On the Rhine, lovely Rhine;
They were broke, but the worst of it all, they were curst
With that malady common to tailors--a thirst
For wine, lots of wine.
The stoddards
© Eugene Field
When I am in New York, I like to drop around at night,
To visit with my honest, genial friends, the Stoddards hight;
Their home in Fifteenth street is all so snug, and furnished so,
That, when I once get planted there, I don't know when to go;
A cosy cheerful refuge for the weary homesick guest,
Combining Yankee comforts with the freedom of the west.
Where The Children Used To Play
© James Whitcomb Riley
O from our life's full measure
And rich hoard of worldly treasure
We often turn our weary eyes away,
And hand in hand we wander
Down the old path winding yonder
To the orchard where the children used to play.
The Lyttel Boy
© Eugene Field
Sometime there ben a lyttel boy
That wolde not renne and play,
And helpless like that little tyke
Ben allwais in the way.
The Bride Of The Greek Isle
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Fear! I'm a Greek, and how should I fear death?
A slave, and wherefore should I dread my freedom?
I will not live degraded ~ Sardanapalus
Friar Lubin. (From The French)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
ENVOY
When an evil deed 's to do
Friar Lubin is stout and true;
Glimmers a ray of goodness through it,
Friar Lubin cannot do it.
The Columbiad: Book VII
© Joel Barlow
He spoke; his moving armies veil'd the plain,
His fleets rode bounding on the western main;
O'er lands and seas the loud applauses rung,
And war and union dwelt on every tongue.
The Joys Of Home
© Edgar Albert Guest
Curling smoke from a chimney low,
And only a few more steps to go,
Faces pressed at a window pane
Watching for someone to come again,
And I am the someone they wait to see--
These are the joys life gives to me.
The Death of Robin Hood
© Eugene Field
"Give me my bow," said Robin Hood,
"An arrow give to me;
And where 't is shot mark thou that spot,
For there my grave shall be."
Natalias Resurrection: Sonnet XVII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Nor yet in vain. For to him through the rout
Behold, 'mid herald whispers of her name
And laughing eyes and welcome hands held out,
Natalia's self behind her husband came,
The Lovers Sacrifice
© Victor Marie Hugo
HERNANI. No! I will not rend
From its fair stem the flower as I descend.
Go--I have smelt its perfume. Go--resume
All that this grasp has brushed away of bloom.
Wed the old man,--believe that ne'er we met;
I seek my shade--be happy, and forget!
The "happy isles" of horace
© Eugene Field
Oh, come with me to the Happy Isles
In the golden haze off yonder,
Where the song of the sun-kissed breeze beguiles,
And the ocean loves to wander.
Ode to Melancholy
© Mary Darby Robinson
SORC'RESS of the Cave profound!
Hence, with thy pale, and meagre train,
Nor dare my roseate bow'r profane,
Where light-heel'd mirth despotic reigns,
Slightly bound in feath'ry chains,
And scatt'ring blisses round.
Some time
© Eugene Field
Last night, my darling, as you slept,
I thought I heard you sigh,
And to your little crib I crept,
And watched a space thereby;
To The Beloved
© Giacomo Leopardi
Beauty beloved, who hast my heart inspired,
Seen from afar, or with thy face concealed,
Mr. Dana, of the New York Sun
© Eugene Field
Thar showed up out'n Denver in the spring uv '81
A man who'd worked with Dana on the Noo York Sun.
His name wuz Cantell Whoppers, 'nd he wuz a sight ter view
Ez he walked inter the orfice 'nd inquired fer work ter do.
To The New-Born
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
A BLESSING on thy head, thou child of many hopes and fears!
A rainbow-welcome thine hath been, of mingled smiles and tears.
Thy father greets thee unto life, with a full and chasten'd heart,
For a solemn gift from God thou com'st, all precious as thou art!
Mother and child
© Eugene Field
One night a tiny dewdrop fell
Into the bosom of a rose,--
"Dear little one, I love thee well,
Be ever here thy sweet repose!"
Mary smith
© Eugene Field
Away down East where I was reared amongst my Yankee kith,
There used to live a pretty girl whose name was Mary Smith;
And though it's many years since last I saw that pretty girl,
And though I feel I'm sadly worn by Western strife and whirl;
The Barn and the Down
© Edward Thomas
t stood in the sunset sky
Like the straight-backed down,
Many a time - the barn
At the edge of town,
