Smile poems
/ page 312 of 369 /
Lines on the Death of Edward John Trelawny
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
LAST high star of the years whose thunder
Still mens listening remembrance hears,
Last light left of our fathers years,
Watched with honour and hailed with wonder
Thee too then have the years borne under,
Thou too then hast regained thy peers.
Scarlet Flowers
© Margaret Elizabeth Sangster
A tired shop girl hurries by;
Their color seems to catch her eye;
She pauses, starts, and wistfully
She gazes up. It seems to me
That I can hear her longing sigh. . . .
A little shop girl hurries by.
The Prodigal Son
© John Newton
Afflictions, though they seem severe;
In mercy oft are sent;
They stopped the prodigal's career,
And forced him to repent.
Some Day
© Edgar Albert Guest
SOME day our eyes will brighten, and some day our hearts will lighten,
Some day the sun will shine for you and me;
Monimia. An Ode
© John Logan
In weeds of sorrow wildly 'dight,
Alone beneath the gloom of night,
Monimia went to mourn;
She left a mother's fond alarms;
Ah! never to return!
No matternowSweet
© Emily Dickinson
No matternowSweet
But when I'm Earl
Won't you wish you'd spoken
To that dull Girl?
Songs Of The Imprisoned Naiad
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
"WOE! woe is me! the centuries pass away,
The mortal seasons run their ceaseless rounds,
While here I wither for the sunbright day,
Its genial sights and sounds.
Woe! woe is me!
The Marriage Of Tirzah And Ahirad
© Thomas Babbington Macaulay
Round the dark curtains of the fiery throne
Pauses awhile the voice of sacred song:
From all the angelic ranks goes forth a groan,
'How long, O Lord, how long?'
The still small voice makes answer, 'Wait and see,
Oh sons of glory, what the end shall be.'
To a Friend, on the Death of a Relative.
© Mather Byles
I.
Great GOD, thy Works our Wonder raise,
To thee our swelling Notes belong;
While Skies, and Winds, and Rocks, and Seas,
Around shall echo to our Song.
An Ode To The Hills
© Archibald Lampman
AEons ago ye were,
Before the struggling changeful race of man
The Tryst Of The Sachems Daughter
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
In the far green depths of the forest glade,
Where the hunters footsteps but rarely strayed,
Was a darksome dell, possessed, twas said,
By an evil spirit, dark and dread,
Whose weird voice spoke in the whisperings low
Of that haunted wood, and the torrents flow.
On my dear Grand-child Simon Bradstreet, Who dyed on 16. Novemb. 1669. being but a moneth, and one d
© Anne Bradstreet
No sooner come, but gone, and fal'n asleep,
Acquaintance short, yet parting caus'd us weep,
Good Bye
© Sukasah Syahdan
Remember the old drunk at your church
who elbowed me on the ribs
and muttered something I undestood not?
You said he meant he wanted to talk to God
I returned his with mine and said "Me too
"
The Young Soldier
© Wilfred Owen
It is not death
Without hereafter
To one in dearth
Of life and its laughter,
The Homeless Ghost
© George MacDonald
Still flowed the music, flowed the wine.
The youth in silence went;
Through naked streets, in cold moonshine,
His homeward way he bent,
Where, on the city's seaward line,
His lattice seaward leant.
A Translation Of The CIV. Psalm To The Original Sense
© Sir Henry Wotton
My soul exalt the Lord with Hymns of praise:
O Lord my God, how boundless is thy might?
Whose Throne of State is cloath'd with glorious rays,
And round about hast rob'd thy self with light.
Who like a curtain hast the Heavens display'd,
And in the watry Roofs thy Chambers laid.
Docker
© Seamus Justin Heaney
There, in the corner, staring at his drink.
The cap juts like a gantry's crossbeam,
Cowling plated forehead and sledgehead jaw.
Speech is clamped in the lips' vice.
