Love poems
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Sonnet XXXVI: When We Met First
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
When we met first and loved, I did not build
Upon the event with marble. Could it mean
The Inauguration of the Hill o' Balgay
© William Topaz McGonagall
Beautiful Hill o' Balgay,
With your green frees and flowers fair,
'Tis health for the old and young
For to be walking there,
The Horrors of Majuba
© William Topaz McGonagall
'Twas after the great Majuba fight:
And the next morning, at daylight,
Captain Macbean's men were ordered to headquarters camp,
So immediately Captain Macbean and his men set out on tramp.
Libertatis Sacra Fames
© Oscar Wilde
For no right cause, beneath whose ignorant reign
Arts, Culture, Reverence, Honour, all things fade,
Save Treason and the dagger of her trade,
And Murder with his silent bloody feet.
The Heatherblend Club Banquet
© William Topaz McGonagall
'Twas on the 16th of October, in the year 1894,
I was invited to Inverness, not far from the sea shore,
To partake of a banquet prepared by the Heatherblend Club,
Gentlemen who honoured me without any hubbub.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXX
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
ON READING THE MEMOIRS OF M. D'ARTAGNAN
Why was I born in this degenerate age?
Or rather why, a thousand times, with soul
Of such degenerate stuff that a mute rage
The Cold Clear Spring At Nanyang
© Li Po
A pity it is evening, yet
I do love the water of this spring
seeing how clear it is, how clean;
rays of sunset gleam on it,
The Funeral of the Late Prince Henry of Battenberg
© William Topaz McGonagall
Alas! Prince Henry of Battenberg is dead!
And, I hope, has gone to heaven, its streets to tread,
And to sing with God's saints above,
Where all is joy and peace and love.
Love and Music. Written at Oxford, When Young
© William Shenstone
Shall Love alone for ever claim
An universal right to fame,
An undisputed sway?
Or has not Music equal charms,
To fill the breast with strange alarms,
And make the world obey?
The Funeral of the Late Ex-Provost Rough, Dundee
© William Topaz McGonagall
'Twas in the year of 1888, and on the 19th of November,
Which the friends of the late Ex-Provost Rough will long remember,
Because 'twas on the 19th of November his soul took its flight
To the happy land above, the land of pure delight.
The Funeral of the German Emperor
© William Topaz McGonagall
Ye sons of Germany, your noble Emperor William now is dead.
Who oft great armies to battle hath led;
He was a man beloved by his subjects all,
Because he never tried them to enthral.
Dinah Kneading Dough
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
I have seen full many a sight
Born of day or drawn by night:
The Kerrigan Boys
© Edward Harrington
By jove its hot on the track today, my flannel is soaked with sweat.
I think Ill sit in the shade a bit and wait for the sun to set.
I know of a decent camping place by the river beyond the town,
And Id rather carry my swag through there after the sun goes down.
The Disastrous Fire at Scarborough
© William Topaz McGonagall
'Twas in the year of 1898, and on the 8th of June,
A mother and six children met with a cruel doom
In one of the most fearful fires for some years past
And as the spectators gazed upon them they stood aghast
The Destroying Angel
© William Topaz McGonagall
I dreamt a dream the other night
That an Angel appeared to me, clothed in white.
Oh! it was a beautiful sight,
Such as filled my heart with delight.
The Den o' Fowlis
© William Topaz McGonagall
Beautiful Den o' Fowlis, most charming to be seen
In the summer season, when your trees are green;
Especially in the bright and clear month of June,
When your flowere and shrubberies are in full bloom.
The Death of the Rev. Dr. Wilson
© William Topaz McGonagall
'Twas in the year of 1888 and on the 17th of January
That the late Rev. Dr. Wilson's soul fled away;
The generous-hearted Dr. had been ailing for some time,
But death, with his dart, did pierce the heart of the learned divine.
The Lovers
© Rainer Maria Rilke
See how in their veins all becomes spirit;
into each other they mature and grow.
The Death of the Queen
© William Topaz McGonagall
Alas! our noble and generous Queen Victoria is dead,
And I hope her soul to Heaven has fled,
To sing and rejoice with saints above,
Where ah is joy, peace, and love.
