We Are Not Always Glad When We Smile

We are not always glad when we smile:
    Though we wear a fair face and are gay,
        And the world we deceive
        May not ever believe
    We could laugh in a happier way. -
Yet, down in the deeps of the soul,
    Ofttimes, with our faces aglow,
        There's an ache and a moan
        That we know of alone,
    And as only the hopeless may know.

We are not always glad when we smile, -
    For the heart, in a tempest of pain,
        May live in the guise
        Of a smile in the eyes
    As a rainbow may live in the rain;
And the stormiest night of our woe
    May hang out a radiant star
        Whose light in the sky
        Of despair is a lie
    As black as the thunder-clouds are.

We are not always glad when we smile! -
    But the conscience is quick to record,
        All the sorrow and sin
        We are hiding within
    Is plain in the sight of the Lord:
And ever, O ever, till pride
    And evasion shall cease to defile
        The sacred recess
        Of the soul, we confess
    We are not always glad when we smile.

James Whitcomb Riley

James Whitcomb Riley was an American writer, poet, and best-selling author. He was known as the "Hoosier Poet" and the "Children's Poet" for his dialect works and children's poetry respectively. Over his career, Riley authored approximately 1,000 poems, including "Little Orphant Annie" and "The Raggedy Man". His influence extended into the 20th century, and his works continued to be celebrated for their nostalgic and rural themes.

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Not Always Glad When We Smile

We are not always glad when we smile:
Though we wear a fair face and are gay,
    And the world we deceive
    May not ever believe
We could laugh in a happier way. -
Yet, down in the deeps of the soul,
Ofttimes, with our faces aglow,
    There's an ache and a moan
    That we know of alone,
And as only the hopeless may know.

We are not always glad when we smile, -
For the heart, in a tempest of pain,
    May live in the guise
    Of a smile in the eyes
As a rainbow may live in the rain;
And the stormiest night of our woe
May hang out a radiant star
    Whose light in the sky
    Of despair is a lie
As black as the thunder-clouds are.

We are not always glad when we smile! -
But the conscience is quick to record,
    Al...

James Whitcomb Riley

And The Laughter Of The Young And Gay Was Far Too Glad And Loud.

Hush, hush! my thoughts are resting on a changeless world of bliss;
Oh! come not with the voice of mirth to lure them back to this.
'Tis true, we've much of sadness in our weary sojourn here,
That fades, and leaves no deeper trace than childhood's reckless tear;
But there are woes which scathe the heart till all its bloom is o'er,
A deadly blight we feel but once, that once for evermore.

Oh, then, 'tis sweet on fancy's wing to cleave that bright domain!
The loved and the redeemed are there, why lure me back again?
The cadences of gladness to your hearts may yet be dear;
They have no melody for mine, all, all is desert here.
The sunshine still is bright to you, the moonlight and the flowers;
To me they tell a harrowing tale of dear departed hours.

I would not cu...

Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney

Oh! Think Not My Spirits Are Always As Light.

Oh! think not my spirits are always as light,
    And as free from a pang as they seem to you now;
Nor expect that the heart-beaming smile of to-night
    Will return with to morrow to brighten my brow.
No!--life is a waste of wearisome hours,
    Which seldom the rose of enjoyment adorns;
And the heart that is soonest awake to the flowers,
    Is always the first to be touched by the thorns.
But send round the bowl, and be happy awhile--
    May we never meet worse, in our pilgrimage here,
Than the tear that enjoyment may gild with a smile,
    And the smile that compassion can turn to a tear.

The thread of our life would be dark, Heaven knows!
    If it were not with friendship and love intertwined:
And I care not how soon I may sink to repose,
    When the...

Thomas Moore

Smiles

Smile a little, smile a little,
    As you go along,
Not alone when life is pleasant,
    But when things go wrong.
Care delights to see you frowning,
    Loves to hear you sigh;
Turn a smiling face upon her,
    Quick the dame will fly.

Smile a little, smile a little,
    All along the road;
Every life must have its burden,
    Every heart its load.
Why sit down in gloom and darkness,
    With your grief to sup?
As you drink Fate's bitter tonic,
    Smile across the cup.

Smile upon the troubled pilgrims
    Whom you pass and meet;
Frowns are thorns, and smiles are blossoms
    Oft for weary feet.

Do not make the way seem harder
    By a sullen face,
Smile a little, smile a little,
    Brighten up the place....

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Kissing The Rod.

O heart of mine, we shouldn't
        Worry so!
What we've missed of calm we couldn't
        Have, you know!
What we've met of stormy pain,
And of sorrow's driving rain,
We can better meet again,
        If it blow!

We have erred in that dark hour
        We have known,
When our tears fell with the shower,
        All alone! -
Were not shine and shadow blent
As the gracious Master meant? -
Let us temper our content
        With His own.

For, we know, not every morrow
        Can be sad;
So, forgetting all the sorrow
        We have had,
Let us fold away our fears,
And put by our foolish tears,
And through all the coming years
    Just be glad.

James Whitcomb Riley

Smiles.

There is the warm, congenial smile,
    Benign, and honest, too,
Free from deception, fraud, and guile;
    The smile of friendship true.

There is the smile most fair to see,
Which wreathes the modest glance
Of spotless maiden purity;
    The smile of innocence.

There is the smile of woman's love,
    That potent, siren spell,
Which uplifts men to heaven above,
    Or lures them down to hell!

There is the vain, derisive smile,
    Of cynical conceit;
The drunken leer, the grimace vile,
    Of lives with crime replete.

There is the smile of vacancy,
    Expressionless, we find
On idiot physiognomy,
    The vacuum of a mind.

There is a smile, which more than tears
    Or language can express;
The grim d...

Alfred Castner King