Love poems
/ page 156 of 1285 /
Love
© Fitz-Greene Halleck
……….. The imperial votress passed on
In maiden meditation, fancy free.
Midsummer Night's Dream,
Shall I never see a bachelor of three-score again?
Hobbie Noble
© Andrew Lang
Foul fa' the breast first treason bred in!
That Liddesdale may safely say:
For in it there was baith meat and drink,
And corn unto our geldings gay.
Narrara Creek
© Henry Kendall
From the rainy hill-heads, where, in starts and in spasms,
Leaps wild the white torrent from chasms to chasms
Behind The Arras
© Bliss William Carman
I hardly know which room I care for best;
This fronting west,
With the strange hills in view,
Where the great sun goes,where I may go too,
When my lease is through,
In Search Of Cinderella
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
From dusk to dawn,
From town to town,
Without a single clue,
I seek the tender, slender foot
Grook About Faith, Love, etc.
© Piet Hein
She gave me hope
she gave me love,
with bounty unalloyed.
But what she had of faith,
alas,
she gave to Freud.
Idyll IV. The Herdsmen
© Theocritus
BATTUS.
Look at that heifer! sure there's naught, save bare bones, left of her.
Pray, does she browse on dewdrops, as doth the grasshopper?
Moesta et Errabunda (Grieving and Wandering)
© Charles Baudelaire
Dis-moi ton coeur parfois s'envole-t-il, Agathe,
Loin du noir océan de l'immonde cité
Vers un autre océan où la splendeur éclate,
Bleu, clair, profond, ainsi que la virginité?
Dis-moi, ton coeur parfois s'envole-t-il, Agathe?
Mutability - II.
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
The flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow dies;
All that we wish to stay
To Rudyard Kipling
© Bliss William Carman
What need have you of praising? Could I find
Some lonely poet no one praises yet,
On A Tuft Of Grass
© Emma Lazarus
WEAK, slender blades of tender green,
With little fragrance, little sheen,
What maketh ye so dear to all?
Nor bud, nor flower, nor fruit have ye,
So tiny, it can only be
'Mongst fairies ye are counted tall.
Doctor Major
© Lionel Pigot Johnson
Enough, Sir! Let us have no more of it:
Your friend is little better than a Whig.
But you and I, Sir, who are men of wit,
Laugh at the follies of a canting prig.
Let those who will, Sir! to such whims submit:
No, Sir! we'll to the Mitre: Frank! my wig.
Telemachus Versus Mentor
© Francis Bret Harte
Don't mind me, I beg you, old fellow,--I'll do very well here alone;
You must not be kept from your "German" because I've dropped in like
a stone.
Leave all ceremony behind you, leave all thought of aught but
yourself;
And leave, if you like, the Madeira, and a dozen cigars on the shelf.
Praise the Lord, God's Glories Show
© Henry Francis Lyte
Praise the Lord, Gods glories show, Alleluia!
Saints within Gods courts below, Alleluia!
Angels round the throne above, Alleluia!
All that see and share Gods love, Alleluia!
The Lay of the Last Minstrel: Canto II.
© Sir Walter Scott
I.
If thou would'st view fair Melrose aright,
Mockery
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Why do we grudge our sweets so to the living
Who, God knows, find at best too much of gall,
And then with generous, open hands kneel, giving
Unto the dead our all?
Hymn of Sovereign Grace
© Augustus Montague Toplady
Formed for thyself, and turned to thee,
Thy praises, Lord , I show;
No more, with sacrilegious pride,
I rob thee of thy due.
A Dream
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
To one same tune, but higher, Bold,
The maiden sang, is Love! For cold
On Earth are blushes, and for shame
Of such an ineffectual flame
As ill consumes the sacrifice!
