Poems begining by L
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Longing
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
IF you could sit with me beside the sea to-day,
And whisper with me sweetest dreamings o'er and o'er;
Lost Counsel
© Margaret Widdemer
IF you were but near me,
O kindest and best,
I could tell you my trouble,
And I could have rest;
Limerick: There was an Ol Man of Quebec
© Edward Lear
There was an Ol Man of Quebec,
A beetle ran over his neck;
But he cried, 'With a needle,
I'll slay you, O beadle!'
That angry Old Man of Quebec.
Lord! When Those Glorious Lights I See
© George Wither
Lord! when those glorious lights I see
With which thou hast adorned the skies,
Lessons of English
© Boris Pasternak
And when Ophelia sang a ballad-
In her last hours among the living-
All dryness of her soul was carried
Aloft by gusts of wind, like cinders.
La Mancha De Purpura
© Ramon Lopez Velarde
Me impongo la costosa penitencia
de no mirarte en días y días, porque mis ojos,
cuando por fin te miren, se aneguen en tu esencia
como si naufragasen en un golfo de púrpura,
de melodía y de vehemencia.
Louis Wittgenstein's Apple Wine
© Anonymous
Oh! Have you heard of the APPLE WINE!
That out of Beer now takes the shine,
If you have not then now's your time,
Send down an order to Brisbane.
Let Me Lean Hard
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Let me lean hard upon the Eternal Breast;
In all earth's devious ways, I sought for rest
Late, by Myself
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
Late, by myself, in the boat of myself,
no light and no land anywhere,
cloudcover thick. I try to stay
just above the surface,
yet I'm already under
and living with the ocean
Love Rides Disguised
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
What name is his, thy knight's? Nay, ask it not.
If fate should hear thee, child, what griefs might come.
Love rides disguised. He fears a counterplot
For his own plot of joy in heathendom.
Love In My Arms Lies Sleeping
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Roses red for the fair young head to weave a crown,
Let them be half blown,
London Types: The Artist Muses At His Ease
© William Ernest Henley
The Artist muses at his ease,
Contented that his work is done,
Last Trams
© Kenneth Slessor
I
THAT street washed with violet
Writes like a tablet
Of living here; that pavement
Lwonesomeness
© William Barnes
As I do zew, wi' nimble hand,
In here avore the window's light,
How still do all the housegear stand
Around my lwonesome zight.
How still do all the housegear stand
Since Willie now 've a-left the land.
Life Is Bitter
© William Ernest Henley
Life is bitter. All the faces of the years,
Young and old, are gray with travail and with tears.
Must we only wake to toil, to tire, to weep?
In the sun, among the leaves, upon the flowers,
Slumber stills to dreamy death the heavy hours
Let me sleep.
Love Sonnet XLIV
© Zora Bernice May Cross
I cannot tell the wonder of desire
That flames my cheek when you are by my side.
Nor dare I speak the secret of that bliss
That sets the senses of my soul on fire.
Ah Love! all my sin vanished into pride
When I drank Heaven from your first pure kiss.
Little and Great
© Charles Mackay
A traveller on a dusty road
Strewed acorns on the lea;
And one took root and sprouted up,
And grew into a tree.
