Smile poems/ page 2 of 369 /
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.
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
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years have shedTheir utmost bounty on thy head:And these grey rocks; that household lawn;Those trees, a veil just half withdrawn;This fall of water that doth makeA murmur near the silent lake;This little bay; a quiet roadThat holds in shelter thy Abode--In truth together do ye seemLike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
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:--
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.