Love poems
/ page 200 of 1285 /Raison D'Etre
© Edith Nesbit
What is the day? A frame of blue
The vacant-glaring sun grins through.
What is the night? A sable veil
Through which the moon peers tired and pale.
Summer Afternoon (Bodiam Castle, Sussex)
© Edith Wharton
And this was thine: to lose thyself in me,
Relive in my renewal, and become
The light of other lives, a quenchless torch
Passed on from hand to hand, till men are dust
And the last garland withers from my shrine.
Lament.
© Arthur Henry Adams
PEACE, your little child is dead:
Peace, I cannot weep with you;
I have no more tears to shed;
I have mourned my baby too
The Singing Of The Magnificat
© Edith Nesbit
IN midst of wide green pasture-lands, cut through
By lines of alders bordering deep-banked streams,
Where bulrushes and yellow iris grew,
And rest and peace, and all the flowers of dreams,
The Abbey stood--so still, it seemed a part
Of the marsh-country's almost pulseless heart.
A College Career
© Robert Fuller Murray
I
When one is young and eager,
A bejant and a boy,
Though his moustache be meagre,
Elegy XXVI. Describing the Sorrow of An Ingeneous Mind
© William Shenstone
Why mourns my friend? why weeps his downcast eye,
That eye where mirth, where fancy, used to shine?
Thy cheerful meads reprove that swelling sigh;
Spring ne'er enamell'd fairer meads than thine.
Love and Honor
© William Shenstone
Sed neque Medorum silvae, ditissima terra
Nec pulcher Ganges, atque auro turbidus Haemus,
The Age of Wisdom
© William Makepeace Thackeray
Ho! pretty page, with the dimpled chin,
That never has known the Barber's shear,
All your wish is woman to win;
This is the way that boys begin-
Wait till you come to Forty Year.
The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 17
© William Langland
"I am Spes, a spie,' quod he, "and spire after a knyght
That took me a maundement upon the mount of Synay
The Statue of Our Queen
© Henry Lawson
Then if youd have us loyal bide
As we have loyal been,
Great Parkes! for love of England, hide
The Statue of our Queen.
Traveller's Song
© George MacDonald
Bands of dark and bands of light
Lie athwart the homeward way;
Now we cross a belt of Night,
Now a strip of shining Day!
Maha-Bharata, The Epic Of Ancient India - Book XI - Sraddha - (Funeral Rites)
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
From their royal brow and bosom gem and jewel cast aside,
Loose their robes and loose their tresses, quenched their haughty queenly
pride!
The Disciple
© George MacDonald
The times are changed, and gone the day
When the high heavenly land,
Though unbeheld, quite near them lay,
And men could understand.
The Ballad Of Eliza Davis
© William Makepeace Thackeray
Galliant gents and lovely ladies,
List a tail vich late befel,
Vich I heard it, bein on duty,
At the Pleace Hoffice, Clerkenwell.
Sweetest Of Maidens, Oh, How Can I Tell
© Louisa May Alcott
'Sweetest of maidens, oh, how can I tell
The love that transfigures the whole earth to me?
The longing that causes my bosom to swell,
When I dream of a life all devoted to thee?'
Shew Us The Father
© George MacDonald
"Shew us the Father." Chiming stars of space,
And lives that fit the worlds, and means and powers,
Caprice
© William Dean Howells
SHE hung the cage at the window;
"If he goes by," she said,
"He will hear my robin singing,
And when he lifts his head,
I shall be sitting here to sew,
And he will bow to me, I know."