Love poems
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Love And Beauty: II: To The Same
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Oh Soul! that this fair flower dost so mirrour,
Ask of thyself, saying-'Soul beautiful,
Oh Soul-in-love, oh happy, happy Soul,
That wert so dull and poor, and this sweet hour
Dream Song I
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Long years ago, within a distant clime,
Ere Love had touched me with his wand sublime,
In Verona.
© Robert Crawford
Juliet will never rise
In her passion's paradise;
Dust is in her ears and eyes.
And time too, as all men know,
The After-Comers
© Robert Traill Spence Lowell
Their daisy, oak and rose were new;
Fresh runnels down their valleys babbled;
New were red lip, true eyes, fresh dew;
All dells, all shores, had not been rabbled;
Nor yet the rhyming lovers crew
Tree-bark and casement-pane had scrabbled.
There Is a Lady Sweet and Kind
© Thomas Ford
There is a lady sweet and kind,
Was never face so pleas'd my mind;
I did but see her passing by,
And yet I love her till I die.
The Antipodes.
© James Brunton Stephens
A TOWN, a river, hills and trees,
Blue-bounded by the boundless sky
A Hymn for Evening
© Thomas Parnell
The beam-repelling mists arise,
And evening spreads obscurer skies;
When Allah Spoke
© Arlo Bates
Was I not thine when Allah spoke the word
Which formed from smoke the sky?
Song: My Days Have Been So Wondrous Free
© Thomas Parnell
My days have been so wondrous free,
The little birds that fly
With careless ease from tree to tree,
Were but as bless'd as I.
The Wanderers Return
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
An old heart's mourning is a hideous thing,
And weeds upon an aged weeper cling
Like night upon a grave. The city there,
Gaunt as a woman who has once been fair,
A Poet's Soliloquy
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
ON a time not of old
When a poet had sent out his soul and no welcome had found
Where the heart of the nation in prose stood fettered and bound
In fold upon fold
He called back his soul who had pined for an answer afloat;
And thus in the silence of night and the pride of his spirit he wrote.
The Child-Mother
© George MacDonald
Heavily slumbered noonday bright
Upon the lone field, glory-dight,
A burnished grassy sea:
The child, in gorgeous golden hours,
Through heaven-descended starry flowers,
Went walking on the lea.
Love's Seasons
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
When the bees are humming in the honeysuckle vine
And the summer days are in their bloom,
Then my love is deepest, oh, dearest heart of mine,
When the bees are humming in the honeysuckle vine.
A More Ancient Mariner
© Bliss William Carman
The swarthy bee is a buccaneer,
A burly velveted rover,
Who loves the booming wind in his ear
As he sails the seas of clover.
Dirty Jim
© Jane Taylor
THERE was one little Jim,
'Tis reported of him,
And must be to his lasting disgrace,
That he never was seen
With hands at all clean,
Nor yet ever clean was his face. . . .
The Song Of Songs
© Madison Julius Cawein
I HEARD a Spirit singing as, beyond the morning winging,
Its radiant form went swinging like a star:
In its song prophetic voices mixed their sounds with trumpet-noises,
As when, loud, the World rejoices after war.
Duerme Tranquilo With Translation
© Alfonsina Storni
Dijiste la palabra que enamora
A mis oídos. Ya olvidaste. Bueno.
Duerme tranquilo. Debe estar sereno
Y hermoso el rostro tuyo a toda hora.
The Light of the Sun
© Kabir
THE light of the sun, the moon, and the stars shines bright:
The melody of love swells forth, and the rhythm of love's detachment beats the time.
Day and night, the chorus of music fills the heavens; and Kabîr says
"My Beloved One gleams like the lightning flash in the sky."
On The Death Of The Bishop Of Ely. Anno Aet. 17. (Translated From Milton)
© William Cowper
My lids with grief were tumid yet,
And still my sullied cheek was wet
