Love poems

/ page 1148 of 1285 /

Order by :

Your Poem

© Robert William Service

My poem may be yours indeed
In melody and tone,
If in its rhythm you can read
A music of your own;

A Lyric Day

© Robert William Service

I deem that there are lyric days
So ripe with radiance and cheer,
So rich with gratitude and praise
That they enrapture all the year.

Rhyme Builder

© Robert William Service

I envy not those gay galoots
Who count on dying in their boots;
For that, to tell the sober truth
Sould be the privilege of youth;
But aged bones are better sped
To heaven from a downy bed.

I Have Some Friends

© Robert William Service

I have some friends, some worthy friends,
And worthy friends are rare:
These carpet slippers on my feet,
That padded leather chair;
This old and shabby dressing-gown,
So well the worse of wear.

Birthdays

© Robert William Service

Let us have birthdays every day,
(I had the thought while I was shaving)
Because a birthday should be gay,
And full of grace and good behaving.

Winter Remembered

© John Crowe Ransom

Two evils, monstrous either one apart,
Possessed me, and were long and loath at going:
A cry of Absence, Absence, in the heart,
And in the wood the furious winter blowing.

The Equilibrists

© John Crowe Ransom

Full of her long white arms and milky skin
He had a thousand times remembered sin.
Alone in the press of people traveled he,
Minding her jacinth, and myrrh, and ivory.

Prelude to an Evening

© John Crowe Ransom

Do not enforce the tired wolf
Dragging his infected wound homeward
To sit tonight with the warm children
Naming the pretty kings of France.

-- I am a lady young in beauty waiting
Until my truelove comes, and then we kiss.
But what grey man among the vines is this
Whose words are dry and faint as in a dream?
Back from my trellis, Sir, before I scream !
I am a lady young in beauty waiting.

Painted Head

© John Crowe Ransom

By dark severance the apparition head
Smiles from the air a capital on no
Column or a Platonic perhaps head
On a canvas sky depending from nothing;

Blue Girls

© John Crowe Ransom

Twirling your blue skirts, travelling the sward
Under the towers of your seminary,
Go listen to your teachers old and contrary
Without believing a word.

Saturday Paseo: Adelina

© Federico Garcia Lorca

Oranges
do not grow in the sea
neither is there love in Sevilla.
You in Dark and the I the sun that's hot,
loan me your parasol.

Serenata

© Federico Garcia Lorca

The night soaks itself
along the shore of the river
and in Lolita's breasts
the branches die of love.

Gacela of Unforseen Love

© Federico Garcia Lorca

No one understood the perfume
of the dark magnolia of your womb.
Nobody knew that you tormented
a hummingbird of love between your teeth.

The Faithless Wife

So I took her to the river
believing she was a maiden,
but she already had a husband.
It was on St. James night

Little Viennese Waltz

In Vienna there are ten little girls,
a shoulder for death to cry on,
and a forest of dried pigeons.
There is a fragment of tomorrow
in the museum of winter frost.
There is a thousand-windowed dance hall.

Before the Dawn

But like love
the archers
are blind

Ditty of First Desire

In the green morning
I wanted to be a heart.
A heart.

Train Ride

After rain, through afterglow, the unfolding fan
of railway landscape sidled onthe pivot
of a larger arc into the green of evening;
I remembered that noon I saw a gradual bud

Lament For Ignacio Sanchez Mejias

Tell the moon to come,
for I do not want to see the blood
of Ignacio on the sand.