Poems begining by L
/ page 90 of 128 /
Life's Progress
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
How gayly is at first begun
Our Life's uncertain Race!
Whilst yet that sprightly Morning Sun,
With which we just set out to run
Enlightens all the Place.
La Passion Vaincue
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
On the Banks of the Severn a desperate Maid
(Whom some Shepherd, neglecting his Vows, had betray'd,)
Stood resolving to banish all Sense of the Pain,
And pursue, thro' her Death, a Revenge on the Swain.
Long Ago
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
I loved a maiden, long ago,
She held within her hand my fate;
And in the ruddy sunset glow
We lingered at the garden gate.
Listen, Lord: A Prayer
© James Weldon Johnson
O Lord, we come this morning
Knee-bowed and body-bent
Before Thy throne of grace.
O Lord--this morning--
Lift Every Voice and Sing
© James Weldon Johnson
Lift ev'ry voice and sing,
Till earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise
Lullaby
© Fenny Sterenborg
Softly lie down
and close your eyes so blue
worry no more
for tonight I'll watch over you
Lachin Y Gair
© Lord Byron
Away, ye gay landscapes, ye garden of roses!
In you let the minions of luxury rove;
Restore me to the rocks, where the snowflake reposes,
Though still they are sacred to freedom and love:
Lament For Three Brothers
© Confucius
They flit about, the yellow birds,
And rest upon the jujubes find.
Who buried were in duke Muh's grave,
Alive to awful death consigned?
Let's Drink to our next Meeting
© Hew Ainslie
Let's drink to our next meeting, lads,
Nor think on what's atwixt;
They're fools wha spoil the present hour
By thinking on the next.
Love's Last Adieu
© Lord Byron
The roses of Love glad the garden of life,
Though nurtur'd 'mid weeds dropping pestilent dew,
Till Time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife,
Or prunes them for ever, in Love's last adieu!
La mort de oiseaux
© François Coppée
Le soir, au coin du feu, j'ai pensé bien des fois
A la mort d'un oiseau, quelque part, dans les bois.
Pendant les tristes jours de l'hiver monotone,
Les pauvres nids déserts, les nids qu'on abandonne,
Lara
© Lord Byron
Proud Otho on the instant, reddening, threw
His glove on earth, and forth his sabre flew.
"The last alternative befits me best,
And thus I answer for mine absent guest."
Lines Written Beneath An Elm In The Churchyard Of Harrow
© Lord Byron
Spot of my youth! whose hoary branches sigh,
Swept by the breeze that fans thy cloudless sky;
Where now alone I muse, who oft have trod,
With those I loved, thy soft and verdant sod;
Lines, On Hearing That Lady Byron Was Ill
© Lord Byron
And thou wert sadyet 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 notand pain and sorrow here.
Lines Inscribed Upon A Cup Formed From A Skull
© Lord Byron
Start notnor deem my spirit fled:
In me behold the only skull
From which, unlike a living head,
Whatever flows is never dull.
Lesson Of Submission
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
BEN YOUSSUF, bound to Mecca, day by day
Toiled bravely o'er the desert's fiery way,
Till its hot sands and flint-sown courses sore
Pressed on the broidered sandals which he wore,
Love's Apparition and Evanishment: An Allegoric Romance
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Like a lone Arab, old and blind,
Some caravan had left behind,
Ladies And Gentlemen In Outer Space
© Ron Padgett
Here is my philosophy:
Everything changes (the word "everything"
has just changed as the
word "change" has: it now
Last Will And Testament
© Nazim Hikmet
Comrades, if I don't live to see the day
-- I mean,if I die before freedom comes --
take me away
and bury me in a village cemetery in Anatolia.
Letters From A Man In Solitary
© Nazim Hikmet
1
I carved your name on my watchband
with my fingernail.
Where I am, you know,
