Smile poems

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She Walks In Beauty

© George Gordon Byron

She walks in Beauty, like the night
    Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
    Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
    Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

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Two Viewpoints

© Edgar Albert Guest

OUT in the open, the wide sky above,

And the green meadows stretched at my feet;

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Elegy XXVI. Describing the Sorrow of An Ingeneous Mind

© William Shenstone

Why mourns my friend? why weeps his downcast eye,
That eye where mirth, where fancy, used to shine?
Thy cheerful meads reprove that swelling sigh;
Spring ne'er enamell'd fairer meads than thine.

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Love and Honor

© William Shenstone

Sed neque Medorum silvae, ditissima terra

Nec pulcher Ganges, atque auro turbidus Haemus,

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An Interregnum

© Isabella Valancy Crawford

LOUD trumpets blow among the naked pines,

Fine spun as sere-cloth rent from royal dead.

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Deceit

© James Baker

Is this poison running through my veins?
Or is it the trail of a flame,
Engulfing my fury at your treachery
Which needn't be boiled or braised?

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Ode To Peace

© James Beattie

I.  1.
Peace, heaven-descended maid! whose powerful voice
From ancient darkness call'd the morn;
And hush'd of jarring elements the noise,

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The Disciple

© George MacDonald

The times are changed, and gone the day
When the high heavenly land,
Though unbeheld, quite near them lay,
And men could understand.

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Fit The Eighth - The Vanishing

© Lewis Carroll

"There is Thingumbob shouting!" the Bellman said.
"He is shouting like mad, only hark!
He is waving his hands, he is wagging his head,
He has certainly found a Snark!"

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The Jolly Miller

© James Whitcomb Riley

It was a Jolly Miller lived on the River Dee;
He looked upon his piller, and there he found a flea:
  "O Mr. Flea! you have bit' me,
  And you shall shorely die!"
  So he scrunched his bones against the stones--
  And there he let him lie!

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The Convert

© Gilbert Keith Chesterton

 The sages have a hundred maps to give
 That trace their crawling cosmos like a tree,
 They rattle reason out through many a sieve
 That stores the sand and lets the gold go free:
 And all these things are less than dust to me
 Because my name is Lazarus and I live.

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The Child Asleep. (From The French)

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Sweet babe! true portrait of thy father's face,
Sleep on the bosom that thy lips have pressed!
Sleep, little one; and closely, gently place
Thy drowsy eyelid on thy mother's breast.

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The Lay Of The Lady Lorraine

© Carolyn Wells

In vain they entreated, they begged and they plead,
They coaxed and besought, and they sullenly said
That she was hard-hearted, unfeeling, and cruel.
They challenged each other to many a duel;
They scowled and they scolded, they sulked and they sighed,
But they could not win Lady Lorraine for a bride.

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The Departed

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

Thou shalt lie down
With patriarchs of the infant world with kings,
The powerful of the earth the wise the good,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,
All in one mighty sepulchre. ~ BRYANT.

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Between The Rapids

© Archibald Lampman

The point is turned; the twilight shadow fills

The wheeling stream, the soft receding shore,

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The Little White Glove

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

THE early springtime faintly flushed the earth,
And in the woods, and by their favorite stream
The fair, wild roses blossomed modestly,
Above the wave that wooed them: there at eve,

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The Convent

© William Lisle Bowles

If chance some pensive stranger, hither led,

  His bosom glowing from majestic views,

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The Rose

© William Cowper

The rose had been washed, just washed in a shower
Which Mary to Anna conveyed;
The plentiful moisture encumbered the flower,
And weighed down its beautiful head.

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Memory

© William Ellery Channing

I hear thy solemn anthem fall,
O richest song, upon my ear,
That clothes thee in thy golden pall,
As this wide sun flows on the mere.

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The Graveyard By The Sea

© Paul Valéry

Sure treasure, simple shrine to intelligence,
Palpable calm, visible reticence,
Proud-lidded water, Eye wherein there wells
Under a film of fire such depth of sleep --
O silence! . . . Mansion in my soul, you slope
Of gold, roof of a myriad golden tiles.