Love poems
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Sonnet XXIV. By The Same.
© Charlotte Turner Smith
MAKE there my tomb, beneath the lime-tree's shade,
Where grass and flowers in wild luxuriance wave;
Let no memorial mark where I am laid,
Or point to common eyes the lover's grave!
Loss.
© Robert Crawford
She gave the day its heart of fire,
She gave the night her soul of flame;
The sun and moon translated through
Her love as gods became.
The Angel In The House. Book I. The Prologue.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
V.
His purpose with performance crown'd,
He to his well-pleased Wife rehears'd,
When next their Wedding-Day came round,
His leisure's labour, Book the First.
Inscription
© Charlotte Turner Smith
On a Stone, in the Church-Yard at Boreham, in
Essex; raised by the Honourable Elizabeth Olmius,
to the memory of Ann Gardner, who died at New
Hall, after a faithful Service of Forty Years.
The German Legion
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
In the cot beside the water,
In the white cot by the water,
The white cot by the white water,
There they laid the German maid.
Australian Spring
© Hugh McCrae
The bleak faced Winter, with his braggart winds
(Coiled to his scrawny throat in tattered black),
Posts down the highway of his late domain,
His spurs like leeches in his bleeding hack.
Mary
© George MacDonald
She sitteth at the Master's feet
In motionless employ;
Her ears, her heart, her soul complete
Drinks in the tide of joy.
On The Persecution Of The Jews In Russia
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
WHAT murmurs are these that so wofully rise
Into heart-storms of agony borne from afar?
A tempest of passion, a tumult of sighs?
There is dread on the earth, and stern grief in the skies,
While the nations, appalled, watch the realm of the Czar!
Afloat And Ashore
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
'Tumble and rumble, and grumble and snort,
Like a whale to starboard, a whale to port;
Tumble and rumble, and grumble and snort,
And the steamer steams thro' the sea, love!'
Young Henry
© Julia A Moore
Young Henry was as faithful boy
As ever stood on the American soil,
And he did enlist, without a doubt,
When the rebellion was broke out.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part I: To Manon: XIV
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
HE HAS FALLEN FROM THE HEIGHT OF HIS LOVE
Love, how ignobly hast thou met thy doom!
Ill--seasoned scaffolding by which, full--fraught
With passionate youth and mighty hopes, we clomb
Bequeathal
© Roderic Quinn
THE night-birds cry in the bush outside,
And I write here, though the hour be late;
And what shall I write of the man who died?
"He gave his gold to the poor at his gate!"
Spring In War Time
© Sara Teasdale
I feel the spring far off, far off,
The faint, far scent of bud and leaf --
Oh, how can spring take heart to come
To a world in grief,
Deep grief?
The Sinner and The Spider
© John Bunyan
Not filthy as thyself in name or feature.
My name entailed is to my creation,
My features from the God of thy salvation.
