Love poems
/ page 187 of 1285 /
Penumbra
© Pierre Louys
Under the sheet of transparent wool we
slipped, she and I. Even our heads were sunk
under, and the lamp illumined the stuff over
us. Thus I behld her dear body in a mysterious
Gentle Alice Brown
© William Schwenck Gilbert
It was a robber's daughter, and her name was ALICE BROWN,
Her father was the terror of a small Italian town;
Her mother was a foolish, weak, but amiable old thing;
But it isn't of her parents that I'm going for to sing.
The Grave Of A Poetess
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
I stood beside thy lowly grave;
Spring-odours breath'd around,
And music, in the river-wave,
Pass'd with a lulling sound.
Lilith
© Henry Kendall
Father, whose years have been many and weary
Elder, whose life is as lovely as light
Shining in ways that are sterile and dreary
Tell me the name of this beautiful peri,
Flashing on me like the wonderful white
Star, at the meeting of morning and night.
The Parting Soul And Her Guardian Angel
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Soul
Oh! say must I leave this world of light
With its sparkling streams and sunshine bright,
Its budding flowers, its glorious sky?
Vain tis to ask meI cannot die!
Overtures
© John Crowe Ransom
My dear and I, we disagreed
When we had been much time together.
For when will lovers learn to sail
From sailing always in good weather?
Broken Song
© Rabindranath Tagore
Kasinath asks for a rest and the singing stops for a space.
Pratap Ray smilingly turns his eyes to Baraj Lal.
He puts his mouth to his ear and says, 'Dear ustad,
Give us a song as songs ought to be, this is no song at all.
It's all tricks and games, like a cat hunting a bird.
We used to hear songs in the old days, today they have no idea.'
A Contrast
© James Russell Lowell
Thy love thou sendest oft to me,
And still as oft I thrust it back;
Thy messengers I could not see
In those who everything did lack,
The poor, the outcast and the black.
The Angel In The House. Book II. Canto VIII.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
III The Kiss
I saw you take his kiss! 'Tis true.
O, modesty! 'Twas strictly kept:
He thought me asleep; at least, I knew
He thought I thought he thought I slept.
The Sylphs Of The Seasons
© Washington Allston
Long has it been my fate to hear
The slave of Mammon, with a sneer,
Over The Sea
© Robert Laurence Binyon
There came an evening when the storm had died
After long rain, miraculously clear:
And lo, across the burning waters wide
Rose up that coast, to thee and me how dear.
Stanzas For Music
© Robert Fuller Murray
I loved a little maiden
In the golden years gone by;
She lived in a mill, as they all do
(There is doubtless a reason why).
A Tale Of True Love
© Alfred Austin
Not in the mist of legendary ages,
Which in sad moments men call long ago,
And people with bards, heroes, saints, and sages,
And virtues vanished, since we do not know,
But here to-day wherein we all grow old,
But only we, this Tale of True Love will be told.
A Carrion
© Allen Tate
Remember now, my Love, what piteous thing
We saw on a summer's gracious day:
By the roadside a hideous carrion, quivering
On a clean bed of pebbly clay,
Scrub Cattle
© Norma L Davies
Their breath is warm and sweet. It holds the smell
Of wind-brown grass and little fragrant flowers:
Sonnet 14: Alas, Have I Not
© Sir Philip Sidney
Alas, have I not pain enough, my friend,
Upon whose breast a fiercer gripe doth tire,
Than did on him who first stole down the fire,
While Love on me doth all his quiver spend,
Amours De Voyage, Canto II
© Arthur Hugh Clough
P.S.
Mary has seen thus far.-I am really so angry, Louisa,-
Quite out of patience, my dearest! What can the man be intending?
I am quite tired; and Mary, who might bring him to in a moment,
Lets him go on as he likes, and neither will help nor dismiss him.
