Love poems

/ page 1042 of 1285 /

Order by :

``Tell me again; I did not hear: It was wailing so sadly. Nay,
Hush! little one, for mother wants to know what they have to say.
There! At my breast be good and still! What quiets you calms me too.
They say that the source is poisoned; still, it seems pure enough for you!

Drunken Memories Of Anne Sexton

© Alan Dugan

The first and last time I met
my ex-lover Anne Sexton was at
a protest poetry reading against
some anti-constitutional war in Asia

The Rope-Maker

© Arthur Symons

I weave the strands of the grey rope,
I weave with sorrow, I weave with hope,
I weave in youth, love, and regret,
I weave life into the net.

To Charlotte Cushman

© Sidney Lanier

Look where a three-point star shall weave his beam
Into the slumb'rous tissue of some stream,
Till his bright self o'er his bright copy seem
Fulfillment dropping on a come-true dream;

To Beethoven

© Sidney Lanier

In o'er-strict calyx lingering,
Lay music's bud too long unblown,
Till thou, Beethoven, breathed the spring:
Then bloomed the perfect rose of tone.

Athens

© Kostas Karyotakis

A sweet hour. Athens sprawls like a hetaira
offering herself to April.
Sensuous scents are in the air,
the spirit waits for nothing any more.

To Baynard Taylor

© Sidney Lanier

To range, deep-wrapt, along a heavenly height,
O'erseeing all that man but undersees;
To loiter down lone alleys of delight,
And hear the beating of the hearts of trees,
And think the thoughts that lilies speak in white
By greenwood pools and pleasant passages;

The Page And The Miller's Daughter

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

PAGE.
Where goest thou? Where?
With the rake in thy hand?

The Wedding

© Sidney Lanier

O marriage-bells, your clamor tells
Two weddings in one breath.
SHE marries whom her love compels:
-- And I wed Goodman Death!

The Waving Of The Corn

© Sidney Lanier

Ploughman, whose gnarly hand yet kindly wheeled
Thy plough to ring this solitary tree
With clover, whose round plat, reserved a-field,
In cool green radius twice my length may be --

The Dying Hour

© Caroline Norton

OH! watch me; watch me still
Thro' the long night's dreary hours,
Uphold by thy firm will
Worn Nature's sinking powers!
II.

The Tournament

© Sidney Lanier

Bright shone the lists, blue bent the skies,
And the knights still hurried amain
To the tournament under the ladies' eyes,
Where the jousters were Heart and Brain.

The Symphony

© Sidney Lanier

And yet shall Love himself be heard,
Though long deferred, though long deferred:
O'er the modern waste a dove hath whirred:
Music is Love in search of a word."

Sonnet LIV: Yet Read at Last

© Michael Drayton

Yet read at last the story of my woe,

The dreary abstracts of my endless cares,

The Song Of The Chattahoochee

Out of the hills of Habersham,
Down the valleys of Hall,
I hurry amain to reach the plain,
Run the rapid and leap the fall,

The Revenge Of Hamish

It was three slim does and a ten-tined buck in the bracken lay;
And all of a sudden the sinister smell of a man,
Awaft on a wind-shift, wavered and ran
Down the hill-side and sifted along through the bracken and passed that way.

The Mocking-Bird

Superb and sole, upon a plumed spray
That o'er the general leafage boldly grew,
He summ'd the woods in song; or typic drew
The watch of hungry hawks, the lone dismay

Upon Ford's Two Tragedies

Love's Sacrifice, and the Broken Heart.

Thou cheat'st us, Ford, mak'st one seem two by art ;

The Jacquerie A Fragment

Chapter I.Once on a time, a Dawn, all red and bright
Leapt on the conquered ramparts of the Night,
And flamed, one brilliant instant, on the world,
Then back into the historic moat was hurled