Poems begining by L
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London Types: Barmaid
© William Ernest Henley
Though, if you ask her name, she says "Elise,"
Being plain Elizabeth, e'en let it pass,
Louvain - To Dom Brunt Destrtt, O.S.B.
© Robert Laurence Binyon
IT was the very heart of Peace that thrilled
In the deep minster-bell's wide-throbbing sound
When over old roofs evening seemed to build
Security this world has never found.
Looking Death In The face
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
He'll die with. A brave lad, and very like
His sister.
* * * * * *
Lines Addressed to Miss Theodora Jane Cowper, On Himself
© William Cowper
William was once a bashful youth,
His modesty was such,
That one might say, to say the truth,
He rather had too much.
Love's Phases
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Love hath the wings of the butterfly,
Oh, clasp him but gently,
Pausing and dipping and fluttering by
Inconsequently.
Stir not his poise with the breath of a sigh;
Love hath the wings of the butterfly.
Leaving Early
© Sylvia Plath
Lady, your room is lousy with flowers.
When you kick me out, that's what I'll remember,
Love Me A Little
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Love me a little, love me as thou wilt,
Whether a draught it be of passionate wine
Poured with both hands divine,
Or just a cup of water spilt
Love In Their Little Veins Inspires
© Thomas Shadwell
Love in their little veins inspires
their cheerful notes, their soft desires.
Land-Locked
© Celia Thaxter
Black lie the hills; swiftly doth daylight flee;
And, catching gleams of sunset's dying smile,
Through the dusk land for many a changing mile
The river runneth softly to the sea.
Lied Aus Dem Spanischen
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
Gestern liebt ich,
Heute leid ich,
Morgen sterb ich:
Dennoch denk ich
Heut und morgen
Gern an gestern.
Letters
© Ralph Waldo Emerson
Every day brings a ship,
Every ship brings a word;
Well for those who have no fear,
Looking seaward well assured
That the word the vessel brings
Is the word they wish to hear.
L'Amazone
© François Coppée
Devant le frais cottage au gracieux perron,
Sous la porte que timbre un tortil de baron,
Debout entre les deux gros vases de faïence,
L'amazone, déjà pleine d'impatience,
Lost Treasure
© Mathilde Blind
Here--fresh from fumes of some Falstaffian bout,
When famous champions, fired by many a bet,
Had drained huge bumpers while the stars would set--
Beneath its reeling branches by the way,
Till twice twelve hours of April bloom were out--
Locked in oblivion--Shakespeare lost a day.
Last before America
© Louis MacNeice
A spiral of green hay on the end of a rake:
The moment is sweat and sun-prick---children and old women
Big in a tiny field, midgets against the mountain,
So toy-like yet so purposed you could take
This for the Middle Ages.
Lament Of A Mocking-Bird
© Frances Anne Kemble
Silence instead of thy sweet song, my bird,
Which through the darkness of my winter days
Warbling of summer sunshine still was heard;
Mute is thy song, and vacant is thy place.
Li'l' Gal
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Oh, de weathah it is balmy an' de breeze is sighin' low.
Li'l' gal,
Life's Offices.
© Robert Crawford
Most of life's offices may overlap,
And form a covert for the growth of thought;
But there are some no thought and no device
May ever join; or if perchance they do,
