Smile poems
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The Red King
© Charles Kingsley
And fend our princes every one,
From foul mishap and trahison;
But kings that harrow Christian men
Shall England never bide again.
The Rose-Bush
© Anonymous
There was a rose-bush in a garden growing,
Its tender leaves unfolding day by day;
The sun looked-on, and his down-going
Left it amid the starlit dusk of nights of May.
A Man And His Image
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
All day the nations climb and crawl and pray
In one long pilgrimage to one white shrine,
Where sleeps a saint whose pardon, like his peace,
Is wide as death, as common, as divine.
An Epistle To George William Curtis
© James Russell Lowell
Curtis, whose Wit, with Fancy arm in arm,
Masks half its muscle in its skill to charm,
See Where The Thames, The Purest Stream
© William Cowper
See where the Thames, the purest stream
That wavers to the noon-day beam,
Divides the vale below;
While like a vein of liquid ore
His waves enrich the happy shore,
Still shining as they flow.
The Two Ships
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
On the sea of life they floated,
Brothers twain in manhood's pride,
Russell Gurney
© George MacDonald
In that high country whither thou art gone,
Right noble friend, thou walkest with thy peers,
Adam: A Sacred Drama. Act 1.
© William Cowper
Adam, arise, since I do thee impart
A spirit warm from my benignant breath:
Arise, arise, first man,
And joyous let the world
Embrace its living miniature in thee!
Riches
© Edgar Albert Guest
If I can leave behind me here and there
A friend or two to say when I am gone
That I had helped to make their pathways fair,
Had brought them smiles when they were bowed with care,
The riches of this world I'll carry on.
The Freeman
© Ellen Glasgow
A VAGABOND between the East and West,
Careless I greet the scourging and the rod;
I fear no terror any man may bring,
Nor any god.
The Vagabonds
© Bliss William Carman
We go unheeded as the stream
That wanders by the hill-wood side,
Till the great marshes take his hand
And lead him to the roving tide.
Scenes In London I - Piccadilly
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
THE sun is on the crowded street,
It kindles those old towers;
Where England's noblest memories meet,
Of old historic hours.
The Fens
© John Clare
Among the tawny tasselled reed
The ducks and ducklings float and feed.
With head oft dabbing in the flood
They fish all day the weedy mud,
And tumbler-like are bobbing there,
Heels topsy turvy in the air.
A Post-Impression
© Alfred Noyes
He sat with his foolish mouth agape at the golden glare of the sea,
And his wizened and wintry flaxen locks fluttered around his ears,
And his foolish infinite eyes were full of the sky's own glitter and glee,
As he dandled an old Dutch Doll on his knee and sang the song of the spheres.
