All Poems
/ page 450 of 3210 /Song Written At Sea, In The First Dutch War (1665), The Night Before An Engagement
© Charles Sackville
To all you ladies now at land
We men at sea indite;
An Apology
© Frances Anne Kemble
Blame not my tears, love, to you has been given
The brightest, best gift, God to mortals allows;
The sunlight of hope on your heart shines from Heaven,
And shines from your heart on this life and its woes.
What Weeping Face
© Walt Whitman
WHAT weeping face is that looking from the window?
Why does it stream those sorrowful tears?
Is it for some burial place, vast and dry?
Is it to wet the soil of graves?
After Paul Verlaine-II
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
COLLOQUE SENTIMENTAL
Into the lonely park all frozen fast,
The Blossoming Of The Solitary Date-Tree. A Lament
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
I.
Beneath the blaze of a tropical sun the mountain peaks are the Thrones of Frost, through the absence of objects to reflect the rays. 'What no one with us shares, seems scarce our own.' The presence of a ONE,
The best belov'd, who loveth me the best,
is for the heart, what the supporting air from within is for the hollow globe with its suspended car. Deprive it of this, and all without, that would have buoyed it aloft even to the seat of the gods, becomes a burthen and crushes it into flatness.
To E---
© George Gordon Byron
Let Folly smile, to view the names
Of thee and me in friendship twined;
Yet Virtue will have greater claims
To love, than rank with vice combined.
Translation of a Prayer of Brutus
© Alexander Pope
Goddess of woods, tremendous in the chase,
To mountain wolves and all the savage race,
Fragments - Lines 1353 - 1356
© Theognis of Megara
Bitter and sweet, alluring and tormenting:
Such, till it be fulfilled, Kyrnos, is love to the young;
For if one finds fulfillment, it proves sweet; but if, pursuing,
One fails of fulfillment, then of all things it is most painful.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: XIII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
HE DARES NOT DIE
Four hours by the clock! How strange it is! Four hours
Since love and life, the future and the past,
Died with the shutting of these silent doors,
Musette
© Henri Murger
Yesterday, watching the swallows' flight
That bring the spring and the season fair,
Well do I know myself
© Saigyo
Well do I know myself, so
Your coldness
I did not think to blame, yet
My bitterness has
Soaked my sleeves, it seems
Sketch From Bowden Hill After Sickness
© William Lisle Bowles
How cheering are thy prospects, airy hill,
To him who, pale and languid, on thy brow
A Thought From The Rhine
© Charles Kingsley
I heard an Eagle crying all alone
Above the vineyards through the summer night,
On Divine Love By Meditating On The Wounds Of Christ
© Thomas Parnell
Holy Jesus! God of Love!
Look with pity from above,
Aphrodite
© John Hall Wheelock
Dark-eyed, out of the snow-cold sea you came,
The young blood under the cheek like dawn-light showing,
Stray tendrils of dark hair in the sea-wind blowing,
Comely and grave, out of the sea you came.
Tell Me No More How Fair She Is
© Henry King
TELL me no more how fair she is,
I have no minde to hear
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: XXXIII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Such was the legend. I had read it through
Twice ere I thought of thinking what it meant.
And as I turned with a sigh because I knew
That I alone perhaps of all who went