Smile poems
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Mortua Est
© Mihai Eminescu
Two candles, tall sentry, beside an earth mound,
A dream with wings broken that trail to the ground,
Loud flung from the belfry calamitous chime...
'Tis thus that you passed o'er the bound'ries of time.
Evening Star
© Mihai Eminescu
There was, as in the fairy tales,
As ne'er in the time's raid,
There was, of famous royal blood
A most beautiful maid.
Dickinson Poems by Number
© Emily Dickinson
One Sister have I in our house,
And one, a hedge away.
There's only one recorded,
But both belong to me.
Blood Money
© Syl Cheney-Coker
Along the route of this river,
with a little luck, we shall chance upon
400. Song-Lovely young Jessie
© Robert Burns
TRUE hearted was he, the sad swain o’ the Yarrow,
And fair are the maids on the banks of the Ayr;
386. The Rights of Women-Spoken by Miss Fontenelle
© Robert Burns
WHILE Europe’s eye is fix’d on mighty things,
The fate of Empires and the fall of Kings;
While quacks of State must each produce his plan,
And even children lisp the Rights of Man;
Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention,
The Rights of Woman merit some attention.
324. Song-The Charms of Lovely Davies
© Robert Burns
O HOW shall I, unskilfu’, try
The poet’s occupation?
246. Song-Robin Shure in Hairst
© Robert Burns
HIS face with smile eternal drest,
Just like the Landlord’s to his Guest’s,
The Man Who Invented the Turn Signal
© Zieroth David Dale
The man who invented the turn signalwalks out the factory gatessomewhere in the westknowing he's done a serviceto the world hitting the roadby telling the car behind
194. Song-Blythe was She
© Robert Burns
Chorus.—Blythe, blythe and merry was she,
Blythe was she but and ben;
Blythe by the banks of Earn,
And blythe in Glenturit glen.
191. Song-Theniel Menzies’ Bonie Mary
© Robert Burns
IN comin by the brig o’ Dye,
At Darlet we a blink did tarry;
As day was dawnin in the sky,
We drank a health to bonie Mary.
The Two Doves
© Wright Elizur
Two doves once cherish'd for each other The love that brother hath for brother
151. Song-Bonie Dundee: A Fragment
© Robert Burns
MY blessin’s upon thy sweet wee lippie!
My blessin’s upon thy e’e-brie!
Thy smiles are sae like my blythe sodger laddie,
Thou’s aye the dearer, and dearer to me!
Etchings II: In the Bar
© Wratislaw Theodore William Graf
A hand that twists the broidered veilAbove the drooping flower-red mouthUpon the straight and delicate nose,And, gloveless, one, snow-white and frail,Whereon a glittering emerald glowsThat lifts a tumbler to your mouth:
Soft eyes that throw a languid glanceAcross the golden blazing bar,And leave a weary smile with me:Ah, who can tell the ways of chance,Or why to-night divided weExchange bored smiles across the bar?
But age who sits beside you knowsHis worth, and by the right of goldIs claimant of your charms to-night;While youth takes up a distant poseAnd watches you from far in flightBefore the majesty of gold
To a Highland Girl
© William Wordsworth
Sweet Highland Girl, a very showerOf beauty is thy earthly dower!Twice seven consenting years have shedTheir utmost bounty on thy head:And these grey rocks; that household lawn;Those trees, a veil just half withdrawn;This fall of water that doth makeA murmur near the silent lake;This little bay; a quiet roadThat holds in shelter thy Abode--In truth together do ye seemLike something fashioned in a dream;Such Forms as from their covert peepWhen earthly cares are laid asleep!But, O fair Creature! in the lightOf common day, so heavenly bright,I bless Thee, Vision as thou art,I bless thee with a human heart;God shield thee to thy latest years!Thee, neither know I, nor thy peers;And yet my eyes are filled with tears
Song at the Feast of Brougham Castle upon the Restoration of Lord Clifford, the Shepherd, to the Estates and Honours of his Ancestors
© William Wordsworth
High in the breathless Hall the Minstrel sate,And Emont's murmur mingled with the Song.--The words of ancient time I thus translate,A festal strain that hath been silent long:--
Elegiac Stanzas Suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle in a Storm, Painted by Sir George Beaumont
© William Wordsworth
I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile!Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee:I saw thee every day; and all the whileThy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea.
