Smile poems
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Of the Death of Sir T. W. The Elder
© Henry Howard
Wyatt resteth here, that quick could never rest;Whose heavenly gifts increased by disdain,And virtue sank the deeper in his breast;Such profit he by envy could obtain.
The Witness
© Sullivan Rosemary
I have to admit it's a strange feelingto blow your wife away,he said and kind of smiled
A Child's Alone
© Sullivan Rosemary
In the photographs the reporters tookthe others have closed their eyes;only hers are open, stare into blankness
A Supplement of an Imperfect Copy of Verses of Mr. William Shakespear's, by the Author
© Sir John Suckling
One of her hands one of her cheeks lay under, Cosening the pillow of a lawful kiss,Which therefore swell'd, and seem'd to part asunder, As angry to be robb'd of such a bliss! The one look'd pale and for revenge did long, While t'other blush'd, 'cause it had done the wrong
Spleen
© Sturm Frank Pearce
I'm like some king in whose corrupted veinsFlows agèd blood; who rules a land of rains;Who, young in years, is old in all distress;Who flees good counsel to find wearinessAmong his dogs and playthings, who is stirredNeither by hunting-hound nor hunting-bird;Whose weary face emotion moves no moreE'en when his people die before his door
The True Story of My Father
© Starnino Carmine
There were days when I'd catch himalone at the kitchen table, lostinside some regret, his headcradled in his hands like the part
On the Obsolescence of Caphone
© Starnino Carmine
Last heard—with a lovely hiss on the "ph"—August 1982 during an afternoon game of scopaturned nasty. And now, missing alongside it,are hundreds of slogans, shibboleths, small
The Girl from Zlot
© Stallworthy Jon
Four gray walls, and four gray towers Overlook a space of flowers,And the silent isle embowers The Lady of Shalott.
The Faerie Queene, Book III, Canto 6
© Edmund Spenser
THE THIRD BOOKE OF THE FAERIE QUEENEContayningTHE LEGENDE OF BRITOMARTISOR OF CHASTITIE
Short Short Song
© Souster Raymond
When Susi smiles I'm happy,when Susi's sad I'm sad.So as long as we're togetherlet the whole world go mad!
Ballade un peu banale
© Arthur James Marshall Smith
The bellow of good Master Bull Astoundeth gentil CowThat standeth in the meadow cool Where cuckoo singeth now.
I must not teaze my Mother
© Sigourney Lydia Huntley
I must not teaze my Mother; For she is very kind,And every thingshe says to me, I must directly mind:For when I was a baby
Death of an Infant
© Sigourney Lydia Huntley
Death found strange beauty on that polish'd brow,And dash'd it out
Astrophel and Stella: Eight Song
© Sir Philip Sidney
In a groue most rich of shade,Where birds wanton musicke made,May then yong his pide weedes showing,New perfumed with flowers fresh growing, Astrophel with Stella sweete,Did for mutuall comfort meet,Both within themselues oppressed,But each in the other blessed
Astrophel and Stella: 70
© Sir Philip Sidney
My Muse may well grudge at my heau'nly joy,If still I force her in sad rimes to creepe:She oft hath drunke my teares, now hopes to enjoyNectar of mirth, since I Ioues cup do keepe
Astrophel and Stella: 32
© Sir Philip Sidney
Morpheus the liuely sonne of deadly sleepe,Witnesse of life to them that liuing die:A Prophet oft, and oft in historie,A Poet eke, as humours fly or creepe,Since thou in me so sure a power doest keepe,That neuer I with close vp sense do lie,But by thy worke (my Stella) I descrie,Teaching blind eyes both how to smile and weepe
Astrophel and Stella: 13
© Sir Philip Sidney
Phœbus was Iudge betweene Ioue, Mars, and Loue,Of those three gods, whose armes the fairest were:Ioues golden shield did Eagle sables beare,Whose talents held young Ganymed aboue:But in Vert field Mars bare a golden speare,Which through a bleeding heart his poynt did shoue:Each had his creast, Mars caried Venus gloue,Ioue on his helm the thunders-bolt did reare,Cupid then smiles, for on his crest there liesStellas faire haire, her face he makes his shield,Where roses gueuls are borne in silver field
Worn Out
© Siddall Elizabeth
Thy strong arms are around me, love My head is on thy breast;Low words of comfort come from thee Yet my soul has no rest.
The Lust of the Eyes
© Siddall Elizabeth
I care not for my Lady's soul Though I worship before her smile;I care not where be my Lady's goal When her beauty shall lose its wile.
