Love poems
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At Feet Of Dogs
© Ivan Donn Carswell
At my feet the lapdogs of desire,
I wont greet their fawning, least not yet,
their foul breath would shrink a haemorroid,
perhaps Ill feed them oats with garlic
I Thought I'd Served Her Long Enough
© Walther von der Vogelweide
I thought I'd served her long enough,
and sat dejected and confused
Ah, that Murphy girl
© Ivan Donn Carswell
Lets talk about the weather then,
would that help you take your ease?
Gossip is so rare from you
the noise of falling leaves is louder than
your breathing; if breathing is whatever is
sustaining you.
In Memory Of The Late John Thornton, Esq.
© William Cowper
Poets attempt the noblest task they can,
Praising the Author of all good in man,
And, next, commemorating Worthies lost,
The dead in whom that good abounded most.
The Wandering Pilgrim
© Matthew Prior
Will Piggot must to Coxwould go,
To live, alas! in want,
Unless Sir Thomas say, No, no,
Th' allowance is too scant.
A final journeying
© Ivan Donn Carswell
And through a pall of sadness
feel he still walks tall and talks
to us with commonsense and
passion deep to stir our souls.
The Farewell to Clarimonde
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Adieu, Romauld! But thou canst not forget me.
Although no more I haunt thy dreams at night,
Thy hungering heart forever must regret me,
And starve for those lost moments of delight.
Warble Of Lilac-Time
© Walt Whitman
My mind henceforth, and all its meditations-my recitatives,
My land, my age, my race, for once to serve in songs,
(Sprouts, tokens ever of death indeed the same as life,)
To grace the bush I love-to sing with the birds,
A warble for joy of Lilac-time.
Song XII. - O'er desert plains, and rushy meres
© William Shenstone
O'er desert plains, and rushy meres,
And wither'd heaths I rove;
Where tree, nor spire, nor cot, appears,
I pass to meet my love.
Electra On Azalea Path
© Sylvia Plath
The day you died I went into the dirt,
Into the lightless hibernaculum
Where bees, striped black and gold, sleep out the blizzard
Like hieratic stones, and the ground is hard.
The Elves
© Denise Levertov
Elves are no smaller
than men, and walk
as men do, in this world,
but with more grace than most,
and are not immortal.
I Leave Thee for Awhile
© Eliza Cook
I leave thee for awhile, my love, I leave thee with a sigh;
The fountain spring within my soul is playing in mine eye;
I do not blush to own the tear,--let, let it touch my cheek,
And what my lip has failed to tell, that drop perchance may speak.
Mavourneen! when again I seek my green isle in the West,
Oh, promise thou wilt share my lot, and set this heart at rest.
If I Forget Thee
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
If I forget thee! How shall I forget thee?
Sword of the mighty! Prince and Lord of War!
Captive I bind me
To the spears that blind me,
Rage in my heart and love for evermore.
Sonnet. To A Lady Seen For A Few Moments At Vauxhall
© John Keats
Time's sea hath been five years at its slow ebb,
Long hours have to and fro let creep the sand,
Since I was tangled in thy beauty's web,
And snared by the ungloving of thine hand.
In Memory Of Charles Wentworth Upham, Jr.
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
HE was all sunshine; in his face
The very soul of sweetness shone;
Fairest and gentlest of his race;
None like him we can call our own.
The Quest
© Denise Levertov
High, hollowed in green
above the rocks of reason
lies the crater lake
whose ice the dreamer breaks
to find a summer season.
Maiden-Song
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
But I have a will to work,
And a heart for you:
Bid me stay or bid me go.'
The Sea's Wash In The Hollow Of The Heart...
© Denise Levertov
Turn from that road's beguiling ease; return
to your hunger's turret. Enter, climb the stair
chill with disuse, where the croaking toad of time
regards from shimmering eyes your slow ascent
