Love poems
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Four Years
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
At the Midsummer, when the hay was down,
Said I mournful - Though my life be in its prime,
Bare lie my meadows all shorn before their time,
O'er my sere woodlands the leaves are turning brown;
The Exorcists
© Anne Sexton
And I solemnly swear
on the chill of secrecy
that I know you not, this room never,
the swollen dress I wear,
nor the anonymous spoons that free me,
nor this calendar nor the pulse we pare and cover.
The Earth Falls Down
© Anne Sexton
If I could blame it all on the weather,
the snow like the cadaver's table,
the trees turned into knitting needles,
the ground as hard as a frozen haddock,
The Gray Chief
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
'T is sweet to fight our battles o'er,
And crown with honest praise
The gray old chief, who strikes no more
The blow of better days.
The Break
© Anne Sexton
It was also my violent heart that broke,
falling down the front hall stairs.
It was also a message I never spoke,
calling, riser after riser, who cares
Patmos
© Friedrich Hölderlin
The god
Is near, and hard to grasp.
But where there is danger,
A rescuing element grows as well.
The Fury Of Sunrises
© Anne Sexton
Darkness
as black as your eyelid,
poketricks of stars,
the yellow mouth,
The Other
© Anne Sexton
Under my bowels, yellow with smoke,
it waits.
Under my eyes, those milk bunnies,
it waits.
Sonnet 62: "Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye..."
© William Shakespeare
Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye,
And all my soul, and all my every part;
Sonnet 154: "The little Love-god lying once asleep,..."
© William Shakespeare
The little Love-god lying once asleep,
Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand,
It Is A Spring Afternoon
© Anne Sexton
Everything here is yellow and green.
Listen to its throat, its earthskin,
the bone dry voices of the peepers
as they throb like advertisements.
The Fury Of Hating Eyes
© Anne Sexton
I would like to bury
all the hating eyes
under the sand somewhere off
the North Atlantic and suffocate
Never Give All The Heart
© William Butler Yeats
NEVER give all the heart, for love
Will hardly seem worth thinking of
The Fury Of Abandonment
© Anne Sexton
It makes me laugh
to see a woman in this condition.
It makes me laugh for America and New York city
when your hands are cut off
and no one answers the phone.
A Contemplation
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Then let my Contemplation soar
And Heav'n my Subject be
Though low on Earth in nature poor
Some prospect we may see
You, Doctor Martin
© Anne Sexton
You, Doctor Martin, walk
from breakfast to madness. Late August,
I speed through the antiseptic tunnel
where the moving dead still talk
The Fury Of Beautiful Bones
© Anne Sexton
Sing me a thrush, bone.
Sing me a nest of cup and pestle.
Sing me a sweetbread fr an old grandfather.
Sing me a foot and a doorknob, for you are my love.
An Autumnal Extravaganza
© James Whitcomb Riley
With a sweeter voice than birds
Dare to twitter in their sleep,
Portrait
© John Frederick Nims
Seeing in crowded restaurants the one you love
You wave at the door, tall girl in imperious fur,
