Smile poems
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To The Eastern Shore
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
I'S feelin' kin' o' lonesome in my little room to-night,
An' my min's done los' de minutes an' de miles,
The Ministers Daughter
© John Greenleaf Whittier
In the minister's morning sermon
He had told of the primal fall,
And how thenceforth the wrath of God
Rested on each and all.
Winstanley
© Jean Ingelow
Quoth the cedar to the reeds and rushes,
“Water-grass, you know not what I do;
Know not of my storms, nor of my hushes.
And—I know not you.”
A Little Child Shall Lead Them
© Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
Eagerly he grasped the writing;
"I am free!" at last he said.
Backward fell upon the pillow,
He was free among the dead.
Woman
© Fitz-Greene Halleck
LADY, although we have not met,
And may not meet, beneath the sky;
And whether thine are eyes of jet,
Gray, or dark blue, or violet,
Or hazelheaven knows, not I;
To Jane: The Recollection
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Now the last day of many days,
All beautiful and bright as thou,
The loveliest and the last, is dead,
To A Sleeping Child
© Thomas Hood
I
Oh, 'tis a touching thing, to make one weep,
A tender infant with its curtain'd eye,
Breathing as it would neither live nor die
An Invocation
© Walter Savage Landor
WE are what suns and winds and waters make us;
The mountains are our sponsors, and the rills
Fashion and win their nursling with their smiles.
But where the land is dim from tyranny,
A Tombless Epitaph
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
'Tis true, Idoloclastes Satyrane!
(So call him, for so mingling blame with praise,
And smiles with anxious looks, his earliest friends,
Masking his birth-name, wont to character
To Perdita, Singing
© James Russell Lowell
Thy voice is like a fountain
Leaping up in sunshine bright,
And I never weary counting
Its clear droppings, lone and single,
Or when in one full gush they mingle,
Shooting in melodious light.
The Heathen Chinee
© Francis Bret Harte
Which I wish to remark,
And my language is plain,
That for ways that are dark
And for tricks that are vain,
The heathen Chinee is peculiar,
Which the same I would rise to explain.
The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto I.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
Preludes.
I The Impossibility
Don Juan: Canto The Twelfth
© George Gordon Byron
Of all the barbarous middle ages, that
Which is most barbarous is the middle age
Ode To Joy
© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller
Chorus.
Be embracd, ye millions yonder!
Take this kiss throughout the world!
Brothersoer the stars unfurld
Must reside a loving Father.}
May-Day, 1837
© Caroline Norton
I.
MAY-DAY is come!--While yet the unwillng Spring
Checks with capricious frown the opening year,
Onward, where bleak winds have been whispering,
Tale XII
© George Crabbe
'SQUIRE THOMAS; OR THE PRECIPITATE CHOICE.
'Squire Thomas flatter'd long a wealthy Aunt,
Recollections
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Ah! summer time, sweet summer scene,
When all the golden days,
Linked hand-in-hand, like moonlit fays,
Danced o'er the deepening green.
Part of an Irregular Fragment
© Helen Maria Williams
I.
Rise, winds of night! relentless tempests, rise!
Father, Father Abraham
© James Weldon Johnson
Father, Father Abraham,
Today look on us from above;
On us, the offspring of thy faith,
The children of thy Christ-like love.
Grandfather's Love
© Sara Teasdale
They said he sent his love to me,
They wouldn't put it in my hand,
And when I asked them where it was
They said I couldn't understand.
