Smile poems
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The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto V.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
III The Heart's Prophecies
Be not amazed at life; 'tis still
The mode of God with His elect
Their hopes exactly to fulfil,
In times and ways they least expect.
A Farmhouse Dirge
© Alfred Austin
Will you walk with me to the brow of the hill, to visit the farmer's wife,
Whose daughter lies in the churchyard now, eased of the ache of life?
Half a mile by the winding lane, another half to the top:
There you may lean o'er the gate and rest; she will want me awhile to stop,
Stop and talk of her girl that is gone and no more will wake or weep,
Or to listen rather, for sorrow loves to babble its pain to sleep.
Alma; or, The Progress of the Mind. In Three Cantos. - Canto II.
© Matthew Prior
Richard, quoth Matt, these words of thine
Speak something sly and something fine;
But I shall e'en resume my theme,
However thou may'st praise or blame.
Elegy XXV. To Delia, With Some Flowers
© William Shenstone
Whate'er could Sculpture's curious art employ,
Whate'er the lavish hand of Wealth can shower,
These would I give-and every gift enjoy,
That pleased my fair-but Fate denies the power.
An April Birthday--At Sea
© James Russell Lowell
On this wild waste, where never blossom came,
Save the white wind-flower to the billow's cap,
Or those pale disks of momentary flame,
Loose petals dropped from Dian's careless lap,
What far fetched influence all my fancy fills,
With singing birds and dancing daffodils?
Malcolm's Katie: A Love Story - Part IV.
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
High grew the snow beneath the low-hung sky,
And all was silent in the Wilderness;
In trance of stillness Nature heard her God
Rebuilding her spent fires, and veil'd her face
While the Great Worker brooded o'er His work.
Jeptha's Daughter
© George Gordon Byron
Since our Country, our God -- Oh, my Sire!
Demand that thy Daughter expire;
Since thy triumph was brought by thy vow--
Strike the bosom that's bared for thee now!
The Sympathetic Minister
© Edgar Albert Guest
MY father is a peaceful man,
He tries in every way he can
Senlin: A Biography Pt 02: His Futile Preoccupations
© Conrad Aiken
Vine leaves tap my window,
Dew-drops sing to the garden stones,
The robin chips in the chinaberry tree
Repeating three clear tones.
The Dream by the Fountain
© Charles Harpur
Bright was her brow, not the mornings brow brighter,
But her eyes were two midnights of passionate thought;
Light was her motion, the breezes not lighter,
And her looks were like sunshine and shadow in-wrought.
The Abbreviated Fox And His Sceptical Comrades
© Guy Wetmore Carryl
And another added these truthful words
In the midst of the eager hush,
"We can part our hair 'most anywhere
So long as we keep the brush."
Ajanta
© Muriel Rukeyser
CAME in my full youth to the midnight cave
nerves ringing; and this thing I did alone.
Juana
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
The night-wind shook the tapestry round an ancient palace-room,
And torches, as it rose and fell, waved thro' the gorgeous gloom,
And o'er a shadowy regal couch threw fitful gleams and red,
Where a woman with long raven hair sat watching by the dead.
One
© Conrad Aiken
One, where the pale sea foamed at the yellow sand,
With wave upon slowly shattering wave,
Turned to the city of towers as evening fell;
And slowly walked by the darkening road toward it;
And saw how the towers darkened against the sky;
And across the distance heard the toll of a bell.
Greek Funeral Chant Or Myriologue
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
A WAIL was heard around the bed, the death-bed of the young,
Amidst her tears the Funeral Chant a mournful mother sung.
-"Ianthis! dost thou sleep?-Thou sleep'st!-but this is not the rest,
The breathing and the rosy calm, I have pillow'd on my breast!
Elegy X. To Fortune, Suggesting His Motive for Repining at Her Dispensations
© William Shenstone
Ask not the cause why this rebellious tongue
Loads with fresh curses thy detested sway!
Ask not, thus branded in my softest song,
Why stands the flatter'd name, which all obey!
Buddha And Brahma
© Henry Brooks Adams
Then gently, still in silence, lost in thought,
The Buddha raised the Lotus in his hand,
His eyes bent downward, fixed upon the flower.
No more! A moment so he held it only,
Then his hand sank into its former rest.
