Poems begining by L
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Laus Mortis
© Arthur Symons
I bring to thee, for love, white roses, delicate Death!
White lilies of the valley, dropping gentle tears,
"Love, Dearest Lady, Such As I Would Speak"
© Thomas Hood
Love, dearest Lady, such as I would speak,
Lives not within the humor of the eye;
Not being but an outward phantasy,
That skims the surface of a tinted cheek,
Lines On Hearing That Lady Byron Was Ill
© George Gordon Byron
And thou wert sad - yet I was not with thee;
And thou wert sick, and yet I was not near;
Methought that joy and health alone could be
Where I was not - and pain and sorrow here!
Love and Age
© Thomas Love Peacock
I play'd with you 'mid cowslips blowing,
When I was six and you were four;
Lord Jesus, Who Would Think That I Am Thine?
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Lord Jesus, who would think that I am Thine?
Ah, who would think
Who sees me ready to turn back or sink,
That Thou art mine?
Lamenting The Absence Of A Cherished Friend
© Confucius
Though small my basket, all my toil
Filled it with mouse-ears but in part.
I set it on the path, and sighed
For the dear master of my heart.
Limerick: There was an old man who felt pert
© Edward Lear
There was an old man who felt pert
When he wore a pale rose-coloured shirt.
When they said "Is it pleasant?"
He cried "Not at present--
It's a little to short -- is my shirt!"
Life From The Lifeless
© Robinson Jeffers
Spirits and illusions have died,
The naked mind lives
In the beauty of inanimate things.
Love
© Alexander Smith
THE fierce exulting worlds, the motes in rays,
The churlish thistles, scented briers,
The wind-swept bluebells on the sunny braes,
Down to the central fires,
Lo gens temps de pascor
© Bernard de Ventadorn
Bel Vezer, si no fos
mos enans totz en vos
laissat agra chansos
per mal dels enoyos.
Like Crusoe, Walking By The Lonely Strand
© Thomas Bailey Aldrich
Like Crusoe, walking by the lonely strand
And seeing a human footprint on the sand,
Lament of the Frontier Guard (Translated by Ezra Pound)
© Li Po
By the North Gate, the wind blows full of sand,
Louisiana Line by Betty Adcock: American Life in Poetry #129 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-200
© Ted Kooser
North Carolina poet, Betty Adcock, has written scores of beautiful poems, almost all of them too long for this space. Here is an example of her shorter work, the telling description of a run-down border town.
Louisiana Line
The wooden scent of wagons,
the sweat of animalsâthese places
keep everythingâbreath of the cotton gin,
black damp floors of the icehouse.
Lines: Written In 'Letters Of An Italian Nun And An English Gentleman'
© George Gordon Byron
'Away, away, your fleeting arts
May now betray some simpler hearts;
And you will smile at their believing,
And they shall weep at your deceiving.'
Love After Sorrow
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Behold, this hour I love, as in the glory of morn.
I too, the accursèd one, whom griefs pursue
Like phantoms through a land of deaths forlorn,
Have felt my heart leap up with courage new.
