Love poems
/ page 185 of 1285 /Monody
© Herman Melville
To have known him, to have loved him
After loneness long;
And then to be estranged in life,
And neither in the wrong;
And now for death to set his seal--
Ease me, a little ease, my song!
Twentieth Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
Where is Thy favoured haunt, eternal Voice,
The region of Thy choice,
An Unfortunate Likeness
© William Schwenck Gilbert
I'VE painted SHAKESPEARE all my life -
"An infant" (even then at "play"!)
"A boy," with stage-ambition rife,
Then "Married to ANN HATHAWAY."
Earth And Man
© George Meredith
On her great venture, Man,
Earth gazes while her fingers dint the breast
Which is his well of strength, his home of rest,
And fair to scan.
Love's Almsman Plaineth His Fare
© Francis Thompson
O you, love's mendicancy who never tried,
How little of your almsman me you know!
Weariness
© Arthur Symons
I
There are grey hours when I drink of indifference; all things fade
Into the grey of a twilight that covers my soul with its sky;
Scarcely I know that this shade is the world, or this burden is I;
And life, and art, and love, and death, are the shades of a shade.
Don Juan: Canto The Ninth
© George Gordon Byron
Oh, Wellington! (or 'Villainton'--for Fame
Sounds the heroic syllables both ways;
To Longfellow (On Hearing He Was Ill.)
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
But past the poet crowned I see the friend--
Frank, courteous, true--about whose locks of gray,
Like golden bees, some glints of summer stray;
Clear-eyed, with lips half poised 'twixt smile and sigh;
A brow in whose soul-mirroring manhood blend
Grace, sweetness, power and magnanimity!
The Sydney International Exhibition
© Henry Kendall
Now, while Orion, flaming south, doth set
A shining foot on hills of wind and wet
Jimmy Jet And His TV Set
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
I'll tell you the story of Jimmy Jet--
And you know what I tell you is true.
He loved to watch his TV set
Almost as much as you.
Nothing Formed In Vain
© James Thomson
Let no presuming impious railer tax
Creative wisdom, as if aught was form'd
In vain, or not for admirable ends.
Shall little haughty ignorance pronounce
The Dilemma
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Now, by the blessed Paphian queen,
Who heaves the breast of sweet sixteen;
The Summons
© Katharine Tynan
Straight to his death he went,
A smile on his lips,
All his life's joy unspent,
Into eclipse.
For Deliverance from a feaver.
© Anne Bradstreet
When Sorrowes had begyrt me rovnd,
And Paines within and out,
The Sword
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
At the forging of the Sword--
The mountain roots were stirr'd,
Like the heart-beats of a bird;
Like flax the tall trees wav'd,
So fiercely struck the Forgers of the Sword.
The Glove Of The Live Lady.
© Robert Crawford
Her glove! It was rare Ben who sung it,
That best of gloves of the lady dead!
Another's here, as one had flung it
In anger at her lover's head.
Griselda: A Society Novel In Verse - Chapter I
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
And thus I first beheld her, standing calm
In the swayed crowd upon her husband's arm,
One opera night, the centre of all eyes,
So proud she seemed, so fair, so sweet, so wise.
Some one behind me whispered ``Lady L.!
His Lordship too! and thereby hangs a tale.''
The Prayer of Jacob
© John Logan
O God of Abraham! by whose hand
Thy people still are fed;
Who, through this weary pilgrimage,
Hast all our fathers led!
O true and tried
© Alfred Tennyson
Tho I since then have numberd oer
Some thrice three years: they went and came,
Remade the blood and changed the frame,
And yet is love not less, but more;