Love poems

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Riding Together

© William Morris

For many, many days together
The wind blew steady from the East;
For many days hot grew the weather,
About the time of our Lady's Feast.

Our Hands Have Met

© William Morris

Our hands have met, our lips have met
Our souls - who knows when the wind blows
How light souls drift mid longings set,
If thou forget'st, can I forget
The time that was not long ago?

Love's Gleaning Tide

© William Morris

Draw not away thy hands, my love,
With wind alone the branches move,
And though the leaves be scant above
The Autumn shall not shame us.

LOVE is enough: though the World be a-waning,
And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,
Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover
The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder,

King Arthur's Tomb

© William Morris

Hot August noon: already on that day
Since sunrise through the Wiltshire downs, most sad
Of mouth and eye, he had gone leagues of way;
Ay and by night, till whether good or bad

In Arthur's House

© William Morris

"As quoth the lion to the mouse,"
The man said; "in King Arthur's House
Men are not names of men alone,
But coffers rather of deeds done."

Iceland First Seen

© William Morris

Lo from our loitering ship a new land at last to be seen;
Toothed rocks down the side of the firth on the east guard a weary wide lea,
And black slope the hillsides above, striped adown with their desolate green:
And a peak rises up on the west from the meeting of cloud and of sea,

For the Bed at Kelmscott

© William Morris

The wind's on the wold
And the night is a-cold,
And Thames runs chill
'Twixt mead and hill.

Earth the Healer, Earth the Keeper

© William Morris

So swift the hours are moving
Unto the time unproved:
Farewell my love unloving,
Farewell my love beloved!

Day

© William Morris

I am Day; I bring again
Life and glory, Love and pain:
Awake, arise! from death to death
Through me the World's tale quickeneth.

Atalanta's Race

© William Morris

Through such fair things unto the gates he came,
And found them open, as though peace were there;
Wherethrough, unquestioned of his race or name,
He entered, and along the streets 'gan fare,
Which at the first of folk were well-nigh bare;
But pressing on, and going more hastily,

The Shy Man

© William Barnes

Ah! good Meäster Gwillet, that you mid ha' know'd,

Wer a-bred up at Coomb, an' went little abroad:

The White Cliffs

© Alice Duer Miller

Yet I have loathed those voices when the sense
Of what they said seemed to me insolence,
As if the dominance of the whole nation
Lay in that clear correct enunciation.

Winter Sleep

© Elinor Wylie

O what a warm and darksome nest
Where the wildest things are hidden to rest!
It's there that I'd love to lie and sleep,
Soft, soft, soft, and deep, deep, deep!

Wild Peaches

© Elinor Wylie

The winter will be short, the summer long,
The autumn amber-hued, sunny and hot,
Tasting of cider and of scuppernong;
All seasons sweet, but autumn best of all.
The squirrels in their silver fur will fall
Like falling leaves, like fruit, before your shot.

The Puritan's Ballad

© Elinor Wylie

My love came up from Barnegat,
The sea was in his eyes;
He trod as softly as a cat
And told me terrible lies.

The Lion and the Lamb

© Elinor Wylie

I saw a Tiger's golden flank,
I saw what food he ate,
By a desert spring he drank;
The Tiger's name was Hate.

Sunset on the Spire

© Elinor Wylie

All that I dream
By day or night
Lives in that stream
Of lovely light.

Quarrel

© Elinor Wylie

Let us quarrel for these reasons:
You detest the salt which seasons
My speech . . . and all my lights go out
In the cold poison of your doubt.

Pretty Words

© Elinor Wylie

I love bright words, words up and singing early;
Words that are luminous in the dark, and sing;
Warm lazy words, white cattle under trees;
I love words opalescent, cool, and pearly,
Like midsummer moths, and honied words like bees,
Gilded and sticky, with a little sting.