Love poems
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Sream Travel
© John Kenyon
Who hath not longed, by converse fired or book,
To break him sudden from his own home-nook,
The Roman Rose-Seller
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
Not from Paestum come my roses; Patrons, see
My flowers are Roman-blown; their nectaries
Written On The Day Of My Aunt's Funeral
© Charles Lamb
Thou too art dead, ---! very kind
Hast thou been to me in my childish days,
Days Pass: Men Pass
© Stephen Vincent Benet
WHEN, like all liberal girls and boys,
We too get rid of sight
The juggler with his painted toys
The elf and her delight
Seasonal Cycle - Chapter 06 - Spring
© Kalidasa
"Oh, dear, with the just unfolded tender leaflets of Mango trees as his incisive arrows, and with shining strings of honeybees as his bowstring, the assailant named Vasanta came very nigh, to afflict the hearts of those that are fully engaged in affairs of lovemaking…
"Oh, dear, in Vasanta, Spring, trees are with flowers and waters are with lotuses, hence the breezes are agreeably fragrant with the fragrance of those flowers, thereby the eventides are comfortable and even the daytimes are pleasant with those fragrant breezes, thereby the women are with concupiscence, thus everything is highly pleasing…
Rondeau III
© Geoffrey Chaucer
Syn I fro love escaped am so fat,
I nere thinke to ben in his prison lene;
Syn I am fre, I count hym not a bene.
Assumption
© Madison Julius Cawein
A mile of moonlight and the whispering wood:
A mile of shadow and the odorous lane:
One large, white star above the solitude,
Like one sweet wish: and, laughter after pain,
Wild-roses wistful in a web of rain.
Dead Love
© Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
Oh never weep for love thats dead
Since love is seldom true
But changes his fashion from blue to red,
From brightest red to blue,
And love was born to an early death
And is so seldom true.
Wattle And Myrtle
© James Lister Cuthbertson
GOLD of the tangled wilderness of wattle,
Break in the lone green hollows of the hills,
The Voice Calling
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
IN the hush of April weather,
With the bees in budding heather,
And the white clouds floating, floating, and the sunshine falling broad;
While my children down the hill
Run and leap, and I sit still,--
Through the silence, through the silence art Thou calling, O my God?
Down by the Sydney Side
© Anonymous
Over near a chock-and-log hut,
Down by the river-side,
A bronzed young bushman sat,
Telling his blushing bride
The time had come when he must rove
Down by the Sydney side.
Commercial
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Gross, with protruding ears,
Sleek hair, brisk glance, fleshy and yet alert,
Red, full, and satisfied,
Cased in obtuseness confident not to be hurt,
Foreshadowings
© Henry Kendall
FIFTEEN miles and then the harbour! Here we cannot choose but stand,
Faces thrust towards the day-break, listening for our native land!
King Arthur's Death
© Thomas Percy
On Trinitye Mondaye in the morne,
This sore battayle was doom'd to bee,
Where manye a knighte cry'd, Well-awaye!
Alacke, it was the more pittìe.
What Man Dare Say?
© George Ade
What man dare say that he is quite immune
From charms and spells that ev'ry girl possesses ?
To An Absentee
© Thomas Hood
O'er hill, and dale, and distant sea,
Through all the miles that stretch between,
My thought must fly to rest on thee,
And would, though worlds should intervene.
To K.B.
© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
You're here again - and of a sudden
A warmth long gone floods my dead heart,
And all I thought forgot, unbidden
Returns, of me becomes a part.
