Love poems

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Cornish Lullaby

© Eugene Field

Out on the mountain over the town,
All night long, all night long,
The trolls go up and the trolls go down,
Bearing their packs and crooning a song;

There was a time on this fair continent
When all things throve in spacious peacefulness.
The prosperous forests unmolested stood,
For where the stalwart oak grew there it lived
Long ages, and then died among its kind.

Child and mother

© Eugene Field

O mother-my-love, if you'll give me your hand,
And go where I ask you to wander,
I will lead you away to a beautiful land,--
The Dreamland that's waiting out yonder.

By my sweetheart

© Eugene Field

Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When birds are on the wing,
When bee and bud and babbling flood
Bespeak the birth of spring,
Come, sweetheart, be my sweetheart
And wear this posy-ring!

Ben apfelgarten

© Eugene Field

There was a certain gentleman, Ben Apfelgarten called,
Who lived way off in Germany a many years ago,
And he was very fortunate in being very bald
And so was very happy he was so.

Ballad of women i love

© Eugene Field

Prudence Mears hath an old blue plate
Hid away in an oaken chest,
And a Franklin platter of ancient date
Beareth Amandy Baker's crest;

At play

© Eugene Field

Play that you are mother dear,
And play that papa is your beau;
Play that we sit in the corner here,
Just as we used to, long ago.

On A Ferry Boat

© Richard Francis Burton

THE RIVER widens to a pathless sea

Beneath the rain and mist and sullen skies.

A Valentine

© Eugene Field

Go, Cupid, and my sweetheart tell
I love her well.
Yes, though she tramples on my heart
And rends that bleeding thing apart;

Paradise Lost : Book XI.

© John Milton

Thus they, in lowliest plight, repentant stood

Praying; for from the mercy-seat above

A spring poem from bion

© Eugene Field

One asketh:
"Tell me, Myrson, tell me true:
What's the season pleaseth you?
Is it summer suits you best,

A Book Of Strife In The Form Of The Diary Of An Old Soul - April

© George MacDonald

1.

LORD, I do choose the higher than my will.

A proper trewe idyll of camelot

© Eugene Field

Whenas ye plaisaunt Aperille shoures have washed and purged awaye
Ye poysons and ye rheums of earth to make a merrie May,
Ye shraddy boscage of ye woods ben full of birds that syng
Right merrilie a madrigal unto ye waking spring,
Ye whiles that when ye face of earth ben washed and wiped ycleane
Her peeping posies blink and stare like they had ben her een;

A piteous plaint

© Eugene Field

I cannot eat my porridge,
I weary of my play;
No longer can I sleep at night,
No longer romp by day!

A heine love song

© Eugene Field

The image of the moon at night
All trembling in the ocean lies,
But she, with calm and steadfast light,
Moves proudly through the radiant skies,

The Three Maidens

There were three maidens met on the highway;
The sun was down, the night was late:
And two sang loud with the birds of May,
O the nightingale is merry with its mate.

A drinking song

© Eugene Field

Come, brothers, share the fellowship
We celebrate to-night;
There's grace of song on every lip
And every heart is light!

A Chaucerian Paraphrase of Horace

© Eugene Field

Syn that you, Chloe, to your moder sticken,
Maketh all ye yonge bacheloures full sicken;
Like as a lyttel deere you ben y-hiding
Whenas come lovers with theyre pityse chiding;