Love poems
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I explain the silvered passing of a ship at night,
© Stephen Crane
Remember, thou, O ship of love,
Thou leavest a far waste of waters,
And the soft lashing of black waves
For long and in loneliness.
A slant of sun on dull brown walls,
© Stephen Crane
A slant of sun on dull brown walls,
A forgotten sky of bashful blue.Toward God a mighty hymn,
A song of collisions and cries,
Rumbling wheels, hoof-beats, bells,
Ay, workman, make me a dream,
© Stephen Crane
Ay, workman, make me a dream,
A dream for my love.
Cunningly weave sunlight,
Breezes, and flowers.
There was a land where lived no violets.
© Stephen Crane
There was a land where lived no violets.
A traveller at once demanded : "Why?"
The people told him:
"Once the violets of this place spoke thus:
Many workmen
© Stephen Crane
Of a sudden, it moved:
It came upon them swiftly;
It crushed them all to blood.
But some had opportunity to squeal.
Behold, the grave of a wicked man
© Stephen Crane
Now, this is it --
If the spirit was just,
Why did the maid weep?
There was, before me
© Stephen Crane
There was, before me,
Mile upon mile
Of snow, ice, burning sand.
And yet I could look beyond all this,
The ocean said to me once
© Stephen Crane
The ocean said to me once,
"Look!
Yonder on the shore
Is a woman, weeping.
I looked here
© Stephen Crane
I looked here;
I looked there;
Nowhere could I see my love.
And -- this time --
Love walked alone
© Stephen Crane
Love walked alone.
The rocks cut her tender feet,
And the brambles tore her fair limbs.
There came a companion to her,
But, alas, he was no help,
For his name was heart's pain.
Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind
© Stephen Crane
Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
Because the lover threw wild hands toward the sky
And the affrighted steed ran on alone,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
And you love me
© Stephen Crane
And you love meI love you.You are, then, cold coward.Aye; but, beloved,
When I strive to come to you,
Man's opinions, a thousand thickets,
My interwoven existence,
The Onion, Memory
© Craig Raine
In the village bakery
the pastry babies pass
from milky slump to crusty cadaver,
from crib to coffin--without palaver.
All's over in a flash,
too silently...
An Attempt At Jealousy
© Craig Raine
So how is life with your new bloke?
Simpler, I bet. Just one stroke
of his quivering oar and the skin
of the Thames goes into a spin,
Some Like Poetry
© Wislawa Szymborska
Write it. Write. In ordinary ink
on ordinary paper: they were given no food,
they all died of hunger. "All. How many?
It's a big meadow. How much grass
Women's Rights
© Annie Louisa Walker
You cannot rob us of the rights we cherish,
Nor turn our thoughts away
From the bright picture of a "Woman's Mission"
Our hearts portray.
The Quarry
© William Vaughn Moody
Between the rice swamps and the fields of tea
I met a sacred elephant, snow-white.
Upon his back a huge pagoda towered
Full of brass gods and food of sacrifice.
The Daguerreotype
© William Vaughn Moody
This, then, is she,
My mother as she looked at seventeen,
When she first met my father. Young incredibly,
Younger than spring, without the faintest trace
On a Soldier Fallen in the Philippines
© William Vaughn Moody
Streets of the roaring town,
Hush for him, hus, be still!
He comes, who was stricken down
Doing the word of our will.
An Ode in Time of Hesitation
© William Vaughn Moody
After seeing at Boston the statue of Robert Gould Shaw, killed while storming Fort Wagner, July 18, 1863, at the head of the first enlisted negro regiment, the Fifty-fourth Massachusetts.
I Before the solemn bronze Saint Gaudens made
To thrill the heedless passer's heart with awe,
And set here in the city's talk and trade
