Love poems
/ page 184 of 1285 /Aphrodite
© John Hall Wheelock
Dark-eyed, out of the snow-cold sea you came,
The young blood under the cheek like dawn-light showing,
Stray tendrils of dark hair in the sea-wind blowing,
Comely and grave, out of the sea you came.
Tell Me No More How Fair She Is
© Henry King
TELL me no more how fair she is,
I have no minde to hear
Ripley
© Henry Timrod
Rich in red honors, that upon him lie
As lightly as the Summer dews
Fall where he won his fame beneath the sky
Of tropic Vera Cruz;
Ash-Wednesday
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Glittring balls and thoughtless revels
Fill up now each misspent night
The Angels of Buena Vista
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Speak and tell us, our Ximena, looking northward far away,
O'er the camp of the invaders, o'er the Mexican array,
Who is losing? who is winning? are they far or come they near?
Look abroad, and tell us, sister, whither rolls the storm we hear.
Le Pont Mirabeau {French}
© Guillaume Apollinaire
Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine
Et nos amours
Faut-il qu'il m'en souvienne
La joie venait toujours après la peine.
"The thick golden stream of honey took so long"
© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam
1: The thick golden stream of honey took so long
To pour, our host had time to say:
"Here in the dismal Taurides, where fate has brought us,
We don't get bored at all" -- and she looked over her shoulder.
Father Death Blues
© Allen Ginsberg
Hey Father Death, I'm flying home
Hey poor man, you're all alone
Hey old daddy, I know where I'm going
At the Choral Concert by Tim Nolan : American Life in Poetry #248 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 200
© Ted Kooser
Many if not all of us have had the pleasure of watching choruses of young people sing. It’s an experience rich with affirmation, it seems to me. Here is a lovely poem by Tim Nolan, an attorney in Minneapolis.
At the Choral Concert
The high school kids are so beautiful
Lincoln
© Harriet Monroe
And, lo! leading a blessed host comes one
Who held a warring nation in his heart;
Amid My Bale I Bathe In Bliss
© George Gascoigne
AMID my bale I bathe in bliss,
I swim in heaven, I sink in hell;
I find amends for every miss,
And yet my moan no tongue can tell.
I live and love--what would you more?
As never lover lived before.
The Dread Voyage
© William Wilfred Campbell
Trim the sails the weird stars under
Past the iron hail and thunder,
Advent
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
This Advent moon shines cold and clear,
These Advent nights are long;
Premonition
© George Santayana
The muffled syllables that Nature speaks
Fill us with deeper longing for her word;
She hides a meaning that the spirit seeks,
She makes a sweeter music than is heard.
The Earth-Spirit
© William Ellery Channing
Then spoke the Spirit of the Earth,
Her gentle voice like a soft water's song--