Poems begining by L
/ page 30 of 128 /Lalla Ruk
© Vasily Andreyevich Zhukovsky
Dearest dream, my soul's enchantment
Lovely guest from heav'n above,
Longing
© George MacDonald
My heart is full of inarticulate pain,
And beats laborious. Cold ungenial looks
Invade my sanctuary. Men of gain,
Wise in success, well-read in feeble books,
No nigher come, I pray: your air is drear;
'Tis winter and low skies when ye appear.
Lines For The Late Caroline K.s Album
© John Kenyon
Beloved friend!
Who for thyself still doubteststill the more
For those meek doubtsThy volume shall be there.
Lines Written As A School Exercise At Hawkshead, Anno Aetatis 14
© William Wordsworth
"AND has the Sun his flaming chariot driven
Two hundred times around the ring of heaven,
Since Science first, with all her sacred train,
Beneath yon roof began her heavenly reign?
Limerick: There was an Old Person of Cromer
© Edward Lear
There was an Old Person of Cromer,
Who stood on one leg to read Homer;
When he found he grew stiff,
He jumped over the cliff,
Which concluded that Person of Cromer.
London Types: Hawker
© William Ernest Henley
Far out of bounds he'd figured-in a race
Of West-End traffic pitching to his loss.
Lob Der Faulheit
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
Faulheit, itzo will ich dir
Auch ein kleines Loblied bringen.
O--wie--sau--er--wird es mir,--
Dich--nach Wuerden--zu besingen!
Doch, ich will mein Bestes tun,
Nach der Arbeit ist gut ruhn.
Limerick: There was an Old Person of Hurst
© Edward Lear
There was an Old Person of Hurst,
Who drank when he was not athirst;
When they said, 'You'll grw fatter,'
He answered, 'What matter?'
That globular Person of Hurst.
Le Roi Est Mort. Vive Le Roi!
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Why wait for Arthur? He too long has slept.
He shall not hear you--no, nor heed your moan,
More than the wail of those fair Queens that kept
Their watch for him what months in Avalon!
Light Breeze
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
As regards feeling pain, like a hand cut in battle,
consider the body a robe you wear.
Lycus the Centaur
© Thomas Hood
FROM AN UNROLLED MANUSCRIPT OF APOLLONIUS CURIUS
(The Argument: Lycus, detained by Circe in her magical dominion, is beloved by a Water Nymph, who, desiring to render him immortal, has recourse to the Sorceress. Circe gives her an incantation to pronounce, which should turn Lycus into a horse; but the horrible effect of the charm causing her to break off in the midst, he becomes a Centaur).
Limerick: There was an Old Man of Kilkenny
© Edward Lear
There was an Old Man of Kilkenny,
Who never had more than a penny;
He spent all that money,
In onions and honey,
That wayward Old Man of Kilkenny.
Lepanto
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Cervantes on his galley sets the sword back in the sheath
(Don John of Austria rides homeward with a wreath.)
And he sees across a weary land a straggling road in Spain,
Up which a lean and foolish knight forever rides in vain,
And he smiles, but not as Sultans smile, and settles back the blade. . .
Lines Addressed To Lieut. R.W.H. Hardy, R.N.
© Charles Lamb
ON THE PERUSAL OF HIS VOLUME OF TRAVELS IN THE INTERIOR OF MEXICO.
'Tis pleasant, lolling in our elbow-chair,
Lay Your Ears Back and Fight
© Henry Lawson
WHEN you drink of what the poets rave about as sorrers cup,
And yer mouth, in spite of laughin, gits a curve the wrong way up,
Do not whine for help or pity; never cringe at fortunes frown
Lay yer listners back and fight until you fight yer sorrers down!
Little Elfie
© George MacDonald
I have a puppet-jointed child,
She's but three half-years old;
Through lawless hair her eyes gleam wild
With looks both shy and bold.
Lamia. Part II
© John Keats
Love in a hut, with water and a crust,
IsLove, forgive us!cinders, ashes, dust;
La Maison DOr
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
FROM this fair home behold on either side
The restful mountains or the restless sea
So the warm sheltering walls of life divide
Time and its tides from still eternity.
Little Hands
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Soft little hands that stray and clutch,
Like fern fronds curl and uncurl bold,
Le Cygne (The Swan)
© Charles Baudelaire
Andromaque, je pense à vous! Ce petit fleuve,
Pauvre et triste miroir où jadis resplendit
L'immense majesté de vos douleurs de veuve,
Ce Simoïs menteur qui par vos pleurs grandit,