Love poems
/ page 163 of 1285 /
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 11:
© Conrad Aiken
What shall we talk of? Li Po? Hokusai?
You narrow your long dark eyes to fascinate me;
You smile a little. . . .Outside, the night goes by.
I walk alone in a forest of ghostly trees . . .
Your pale hands rest palm downwards on your knees.
The Nobler Lover
© James Russell Lowell
If he be a nobler lover, take him!
You in you I seek, and not myself;
"He looks in my heart and the image there"
© Lesbia Harford
He looks in my heart and the image there
Is himself, himself, than himself more fair.
And he thinks of my heart as a mirror clear
To reflect the image I hold most dear.
Bloodroot
© Bliss William Carman
When April winds arrive
And the soft rains are here,
Some morning by the roadside
These gipsy folk appear.
The Ring And The Book - Chapter XII - The Book And The Ring
© Robert Browning
HERE were the end, had anything an end:
Thus, lit and launched, up and up roared and soared
On The Death Of The Same Revered Nun, The Venerable Mother St. Madeleine , Ten Years Later
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
In Memoriam.
Grief reigns now within the convent walls,
Sonata
© Pablo Neruda
Nights with bright spindles,
divided, material, nothing
but voice, nothing but
naked every day.
Heinelet I
© Gamaliel Bradford
The huge old earth shook and quivered,
When it heard my passionate cry.
Why, even the little stars shivered
And almost went out in the sky.
Black Mousquetaire: A Legend Of France
© Richard Harris Barham
No triumphs flush that haughty brow,-
No proud exulting look is there,-
His eagle glance is humbled now,
As, earthward bent, in anxious care
It seeks the form whose stalwart pride
But yester-morn was by his side!
Admiral Death
© Sir Henry Newbolt
Boys, are ye calling a toast to-night?
(Hear what the sea-wind saith)
Veneration Of Images
© Alice Meynell
Thou man, first-comer, whose wide arms entreat,
Gather, clasp, welcome, bind,
Lack, or remember! whose warm pulses beat
With love of thine own kind;
Book Fourth [Summer Vacation]
© William Wordsworth
BRIGHT was the summer's noon when quickening steps
Followed each other till a dreary moor
Remember--Forget
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
AND what shall be the song to-night,
If song there needs must be?
The End Of It
© Francis Thompson
She did not love to love; but hated him
For making her to love, and so her whim
From Mount Ebal
© John Bunyan
Thus having heard from Gerizzim, I shall
Next come to Ebal, and you thither call,
The Shepherds Calendar - July
© John Clare
Daughter of pastoral smells and sights
And sultry days and dewy nights
July resumes her yearly place
Wi her milking maiden face
Slaves of Thy Shining Eyes
© Shams al-Din Hafiz
SLAVES of thy shining eyes are even those
That diadems of might and empire bear;
Drunk with the wine that from thy red lip flows,
Are they that e'en the grape's delight forswear.
Love, You Must Be Blind
© George Ade
Tell me if you can, the rule by which a man
Selects his worse or better half.
Truly it would seem to be a lott'ry scheme,
The prizes often make one laugh.
Birds In The Night
© Paul Verlaine
You were not over-patient with me, dear;
This want of patience one must rightly rate:
You are so young! Youth ever was severe
And variable and inconsiderate!
