Love poems
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To Amanda - Come, Dear Amanda, Quit The Town
© James Thomson
Come, dear Amanda, quit the town,
And to the rural hamlets fly;
Behold! the wintry storms are gone;
A gentle radiance glads the sky.
TO Mr.T.W.
© John Donne
PREGNANT again with th' old twins, Hope and Fear,
Oft have I asked for thee, both how and where
Thou wert ; and what my hopes of letters were ;
September in Australia
© Henry Kendall
Grey Winter hath gone, like a wearisome guest,
And, behold, for repayment,
Green Pear Tree in September by Freya Manfred : American Life in Poetry #259 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet
© Ted Kooser
Wisconsin writer Freya Manfred is not only a fine poet but the daughter of the late Frederick Manfred, a distinguished novelist of the American west. Here is a lovely snapshot of her father, whom I cherished among my good friends.
Green Pear Tree in September
On a hill overlooking the Rock River
With A Water-Lily
© Henrik Johan Ibsen
SEE, dear, what thy lover brings;
'Tis the flower with the white wings.
Ode II
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
While wounded men leaped on their feet to hear,
And dying men upraised their eyes to see
How on the conflict's lowering canopy,
Dawned the first rainbow hues of victory!
Safi
© Henry Kendall
Was it light, was it shadow he followed,
That he swept through those desperate tracts,
With his hair beating back on his shoulders
Like the tops of the wind-hackled flax?
Growing Attachment
© John Kenyon
With the freshness and placid sensations of morning,
As yet all unconscious of hope or of plan,
Out Of Hope
© Edith Nesbit
IF through the rain and wind along the street,
Where the wet stone reflects the flickering gas,
Wamberal
© Henry Kendall
Just a shell, to which the seaweed glittering yet with greenness clings,
Like the song that once I loved so, softly of the old time sings -
Forgotten Boyhood
© Edgar Albert Guest
He wears a long and solemn face
And drives the children from his place;
A Captive Throstle
© Alfred Austin
Poor little mite with mottled breast,
Half-fledged, and fallen from the nest,
Sonnet 19: On Cupid's Bow
© Sir Philip Sidney
On Cupid's bow how are my heartstrings bent,
That see my wrack, and yet embrace the same?
When most I glory, then I feel most shame:
I willing run, yet while I run, repent.
Night
© James Brunton Stephens
Hark how the tremulous night-wind is passing in joy-laden sighs;
Soft through my window it comes, like the fanning of pinions angelic,
Whispering to cease from myself, and look out on the infinite skies.
The Heather Branch
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Out of the pale night air,
From wandering lone in the warm scented wood,
The sighing, shadowy, bright solitude
Of leafy glade, and the rough upland bare,
The Winter's Come
© John Clare
Sweet chestnuts brown like soling leather turn;
The larch trees, like the colour of the Sun;
Sweet Echo Dell
© Henry Clay Work
"Three there were that left my cot;
Two are here, and one is not;
Why does Willie linger? Say, can you tell?"
Couplet 6
© Amir Khusro
Farsi Couplet:
Peeri-o-shaahid parasti naakhush ast,
Khusrova taaki pareshaani hunooz.
