Love poems
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A Song Of Eternity In Time
© Sidney Lanier
Once, at night, in the manor wood
My Love and I long silent stood,
Amazed that any heavens could
Decree to part us, bitterly repining.
A Dedication. To Charlotte Cushman.
© Sidney Lanier
As Love will carve dear names upon a tree,
Symbol of gravure on his heart to be,So thought I thine with loving text to set
In the growth and substance of my canzonet;But, writing it, my tears begin to fall --
This wild-rose stem for thy large name's too small!Nay, still my trembling hands are fain, are fain
A Birthday Song. To S. G.
© Sidney Lanier
For ever wave, for ever float and shine
Before my yearning eyes, oh! dream of mine
Wherein I dreamed that time was like a vine,
A Ballad Of The Trees And The Master
© Sidney Lanier
Into the woods my Master went,
Clean forspent, forspent.
Into the woods my Master came,
Forspent with love and shame.
The Shepherd's Tree
© John Clare
Huge elm, with rifted trunk all notched and scarred,
Like to a warrior's destiny! I love
To stretch me often on thy shadowed sward,
And hear the laugh of summer leaves above;
To A Fallen Elm
© John Clare
Old Elm that murmured in our chimney top
The sweetest anthem autumn ever made
And into mellow whispering calms would drop
When showers fell on thy many coloured shade
Stanzas to Love
© Mary Darby Robinson
TELL ME, LOVE, when I rove o'er some far distant plain,
Shall I cherish the passion that dwells in my breast?
Or will ABSENCE subdue the keen rigours of pain,
And the swift wing of TIME bring the balsam of rest?
Inscription
© Francis Thompson
When the last stir of bubbling melodies
Broke as my chants sank underneath the wave
The Mores
© John Clare
Far spread the moorey ground a level scene
Bespread with rush and one eternal green
That never felt the rage of blundering plough
Though centurys wreathed spring's blossoms on its brow
Sonnet XVII. Happy Is England
© John Keats
Happy is England! I could be content
To see no other verdure than its own;
To feel no other breezes than are blown
Through its tall woods with high romances blent:
Insects
© John Clare
These tiny loiterers on the barley's beard,
And happy units of a numerous herd
Of playfellows, the laughing Summer brings,
Mocking the sunshine on their glittering wings,
Evening
© John Clare
'Tis evening; the black snail has got on his track,
And gone to its nest is the wren,
And the packman snail, too, with his home on his back,
Clings to the bowed bents like a wen.
May
© John Clare
Come queen of months in company
Wi all thy merry minstrelsy
The restless cuckoo absent long
And twittering swallows chimney song
Where She Told Her Love
© John Clare
I saw her crop a rose
Right early in the day,
And I went to kiss the place
Where she broke the rose away
Sonnet XXII: Heart's Haven
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Sometimes she is a child within mine arms,
Cowering beneath dark wings that love must chase,
Remembrances
© John Clare
Summer pleasures they are gone like to visions every one
And the cloudy days of autumn and of winter cometh on
I tried to call them back but unbidden they are gone
Far away from heart and eye and for ever far away
The Maple Tree
© John Clare
The Maple with its tassell flowers of green
That turns to red, a stag horn shapèd seed
Just spreading out its scallopped leaves is seen,
Of yellowish hue yet beautifully green.
