A poem by Alfred Castner King

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 disguise which anguish wears,
The mask of dire distress

There is a smile of practiced art,
More false than treason's kiss;
But penetrate that dual heart,
And hear the serpent's hiss.

A smile, the visage shall embrace,
When nature's cup is full;
Behind the stern and frowning face
There lies a grinning skull.

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