Smile poems
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A Poem On The Last Day - Book II
© Edward Young
Now man awakes, and from his silent bed,
Where he has slept for ages, lifts his head;
Shakes off the slumber of ten thousand years,
And on the borders of new worlds appears.
Whate'er the bold, the rash adventure cost,
In wide Eternity I dare be lost.
The Soul.
© Robert Crawford
A soul came up to God, and said:
"Give me not human birth
Again oh! send me not to tread
The solitude of Earth;
Hero And Leander: The Second Sestiad
© Christopher Marlowe
By this, sad Hero, with love unacquainted,
Viewing Leander's face, fell down and fainted.
Tale III
© George Crabbe
bound;
In all that most confines them they confide,
Their slavery boast, and make their bonds their
Margaret's Bridal Eve
© George Meredith
The old grey mother she thrummed on her knee:
There is a rose that's ready;
And which of the handsome young men shall it be?
There's a rose that's ready for clipping.
Too Late
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
COULD ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas,
In the old likeness that I knew,
I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,
Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.
Twilight
© Valery Yaklovich Bryusov
Electric moons glow
On long bent stalks
The telegraph wires hum
In gentle unseen hands;
To Algernon Charles Swineburne
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
NOT since proud Marlowe poured his potent song
Through fadeless meadows to a marvellous main,
Has England hearkened to so sweet a strain--
So sweet as thine, and ah! so subtly strong!
"Too Low And Yet Too High."
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
HE came in velvet and in gold;
He wooed her with a careless grace;
A confidence too rashly bold
Breathed in his language and his face.
The Stick-Together Families
© Edgar Albert Guest
The stick-together families are happier by far
Than the brothers and the sisters who take separate highways are.
The gladdest people living are the wholesome folks who make
A circle at the fireside that no power but death can break.
And the finest of conventions ever held beneath the sun
Are the little family gatherings when the busy day is done.
"My heart is a pomegranate full of sweet fancies"
© Lesbia Harford
My heart is a pomegranate full of sweet fancies,
To crimson with sunshine and swell with the dew.
Warmed by your smile and besprent by your glances
See, it has opened for you!
The Ghost - Book IV
© Charles Churchill
Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
Peruvian Tales: Aciloe, Tale V
© Helen Maria Williams
Character of ZAMOR , a bard-His passion for ACILOE , daughter of the Cazique who rules the valley-The Peruvian tribe prepare to defend themselves-A battle-The PERUVIANS are vanquished-ACILOE'S father is made a prisoner, and ZAMOR is supposed to have fallen in the engagement-ALPHONSO becomes enamoured of ACILOE -Offers to marry her-She rejects him-In revenge he puts her father to the torture-She appears to consent, in order to save him-Meets ZAMOR in a wood-LAS CASAS joins them-Leads the two lovers to ALPHONSO , and obtains their freedom-ZAMOR conducts ACILOE and her father to Chili-A reflection on the influence of Poetry over the human mind.
Piscator And Piscatrix
© William Makepeace Thackeray
As on this pictured page I look,
This pretty tale of line and hook
Monument Mountain
© William Cullen Bryant
Thou who wouldst see the lovely and the wild
Mingled in harmony on Nature's face,
Ascend our rocky mountains. Let thy foot
Fail not with weariness, for on their tops
Tom Van Arden
© James Whitcomb Riley
When our souls are cramped with youth
Happiness seems far away
In the future, while, in truth,
Poem Read At The Dinner Given To The Author By The Medical Profession Of The City Of New York, April
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Good was the dinner, better was the talk;
Some whispered, devious was the homeward walk;
The story came from some reporting spy,
They lie, those fellows, oh, how they do lie!
Not ours those foot-tracks in the new-fallen snow,
Poets and sages never zigzagged so!
On the Prospect of Peace
© Thomas Tickell
To the Lord Privy Seal
Contending kings, and fields of death, too long
People In Church
© Arthur Rimbaud
Penned between oaken pews,
in corners of the church which their breath stinkingly warms,
all their eyes on the chancel dripping with gold,
and the choir with its twenty pairs of jaws bawling pious hymns;
