Smile poems
/ page 87 of 369 /
The Cenci : A Tragedy In Five Acts
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Scene I.
-An Apartment in the Cenci Palace.
Enter Count Cenci, and Cardinal Camillo.
On The Silence Of A Young Lady
© George Moses Horton
Oh, heartless dove! mount in the skies,
Spread thy soft wing upon the gale,
Or on thy sacred pinions rise,
Nor brood with silence in the vale.
Sleep And Poetry
© John Keats
As I lay in my bed slepe full unmete
Was unto me, but why that I ne might
Rest I ne wist, for there n'as erthly wight
[As I suppose] had more of hertis ese
Than I, for I n'ad sicknesse nor disese. ~ Chaucer
La Solitude De St. Amant /La Solitude A Alcidon /
© Katherine Philips
1
O! Solitude, my sweetest choice
Places devoted to the night,
Remote from tumult, and from noise,
Crooked House Toll
© William Henry Ogilvie
The proud years have passed it and left it alone;
No more with red blossoms its gables are gay;
The Fiddle And The Crowd
© Roderic Quinn
WHEN the day was at its middle,
Tired of limb and slow of pace,
Came a fiddler with his fiddle
To a crowded market place;
Song. For a Temperance Dinner
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
For a Temperance dinner to which ladies were
Invited (new York Mercantile library Association,
November, 1842)
The Prisoner Of Chillon
© George Gordon Byron
Sonnet on Chillon
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind!
Nathan The Wise - Act I
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
O Nathan, Nathan,
How miserable you had nigh become
During this little absence; for your house -
To a Lady, with Some Coloured Patterns of Flowers
© William Shenstone
Madam,-
Though rude the draughts, though artless seem the lines,
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage: A Romaunt. Canto III.
© George Gordon Byron
I.
Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child!
Empire Building
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
"I'll teach them how to work, and how to pray."
Oh, John, you never think before your day
Rome was, Greece wascan one believe it true?
Great Egypt died, and never heard of you!
Your Eyes Go Sad
© Fernando António Nogueira Pessoa
Your eyes go sad. You're not
Listening to what I say.
They doze, dream, fade out.
Not listening. I talk away.
The Singer
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Years since (but names to me before),
Two sisters sought at eve my door;
Two song-birds wandering from their nest,
A gray old farm-house in the West.
Natalias Resurrection: Sonnet XX
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Oh, pitiful awaking! What was Adrian's pleasure,
That it had earned for him such bitterness?
What his soul's pride that its new tender measure
Should find its echo in a dirge like this?
La Piquante
© John Kenyon
If when deeplier we would look
Into that half-open book,
Thou dost close it, Slyest Saint!
More to tempt us by restraint;
Is'nt this, Flavilla!grant
Is'nt this to be piquant?
