Love poems

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The dark wings of night enfolded the city upon which Nature had spread a pure white garment of snow; and men deserted the streets for their houses in search of warmth, while the north wind probed in contemplation of laying waste the gardens

Humoresque

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

"Heaven bless the babe!" they said.
"What queer books she must have read!"
(Love, by whom I was beguiled,
Grant I may not bear a child.)

A Lover's Call XXVII

© Khalil Gibran

Where are you, my beloved? Are you in that little
Paradise, watering the flowers who look upon you
As infants look upon the breast of their mothers?

The Abbey Mason

© Thomas Hardy

(The church which, at an after date,
Acquired cathedral rank and state.)

Women

© Louise Bogan

Women have no wilderness in them,
They are provident instead,
Content in the tight hot cell of their hearts
To eat dusty bread.

Sonnet 5: It Is Most True

© Sir Philip Sidney

It is most true, that eyes are form'd to serve
The inward light; and that the heavenly part
Ought to be king, from whose rules who do swerve,
Rebles to Nature, strive for their own smart.

The Dream

© Louise Bogan

O God, in the dream the terrible horse began
To paw at the air, and make for me with his blows,
Fear kept for thirty-five years poured through his mane,
And retribution equally old, or nearly, breathed through his nose.

The Crossed Apple

© Louise Bogan

I've come to give you fruit from out my orchard,
Of wide report.
I have trees there that bear me many apples.
Of every sort:

The Alchemist

© Louise Bogan

I burned my life, that I may find
A passion wholly of the mind,
Thought divorced from eye and bone
Ecstasy come to breath alone.
I broke my life, to seek relief
From the flawed light of love and grief.

The Masque Of Pandora

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

THE VOICE.
Not finished till I breathe the breath of life
Into her nostrils, and she moves and speaks.

Grey

© Archibald Thomas Strong

Lady of Sorrow! What though laughing blue,

Thy sister, mock mens anguish, and the sun

An Ode to Master Anthony Stafford to hasten Him into the Country

© Thomas Randolph

COME, spur away,

I have no patience for a longer stay,

Self-Criticism In February

© Robinson Jeffers

The bay is not blue but sombre yellow

With wrack from the battered valley, it is speckled with violent

Portrait

© Louise Bogan

She has no need to fear the fall
Of harvest from the laddered reach
Of orchards, nor the tide gone ebbing
From the steep beach.

When Love Is Lost

When love is lost, the day sets towards the night,
Albeit the morning sun may still be bright,
And not one cloud-ship sails across the sky.
Yet from the places where it used to lie
Gone is the lustrous glory of the light.

Men Loved Wholly Beyond Wisdom

© Louise Bogan

Men loved wholly beyond wisdom
Have the staff without the banner.
Like a fire in a dry thicket
Rising within women's eyes

The Pietous Complainte Of The Soule.

I meanë thus: if ony part of grace Reserued be, in tresoure or ellës where,That thu, for me purveyë and purchaseWolde vouchësaff, gret wondere but there wereI-nowgh for me: nought ellës I require; Do somwhat, than, aftir thi propirte,And schewe whi thu art cleped charite.
But now, allas, ful weel I may recorde, Whil I had myght and space of tyme I-nowgh,Of this mattere, towchid I no word,Ne, to seint, I tho my self[ë] drowgh,
That in myne nede for me may spekë now, As for no service that I have to him do:Wot I not, whom to make my monë to.

Last Hill In A Vista

© Louise Bogan

Come, let us tell the weeds in ditches
How we are poor, who once had riches,
And lie out in the sparse and sodden
Pastures that the cows have trodden,
The while an autumn night seals down
The comforts of the wooden town.