Love poems
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In Praise Of Johnny Applseed
© Vachel Lindsay
But he left their wigwams and their love.
By the hour of dawn he was proud and stark,
Kissed the Indian babes with a sigh,
Went forth to live on roots and bark,
Sleep in the trees, while the years howled by--
The Cloud Messenger - Part 02
© Kalidasa
Your naturally beautiful reflection will gain entry into the clear waters of the
Gambhira River, as into a clear mind. Therefore it is not fitting that you, out
of obstinancy, should render futile her glances which are the darting leaps of
little fish, as white as night-lotus flowers.
New Morality
© George Canning
But say,-indignant does the Muse retire,
Her shrine deserted, and extinct its fire?
No pious hand to feed the sacred flame,
No raptured soul a Poet's charge to claim.
A Song Of Impossibilities
© Winthrop Mackworth Praed
LADY, I loved you all last year,
How honestly and well --
Coogee
© Henry Kendall
Sing the song of wave-worn Coogee, Coogee in the distance white,
With its jags and points disrupted, gaps and fractures fringed with light;
Ulster 1912
© Rudyard Kipling
"Their webs shall not become garments, neither shall they cover themselves with their works: their works are works of inquity and the act of violence is in their hands." - Isaiah lix. 6.
Dead Love
© Sara Teasdale
God let me listen to your voice,
And look upon you for a space
And then he took your voice away,
And dropped a veil before your face.
To Kasbek
© Mikhail Lermontov
With winged footsteps now I hasten
Unto the far cold North away,
Kasbek,--thou watchman of the East,
To thee, my farewell greetings say!
True Love
© Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
Farewell, Earl Richard,
Tender and brave;
Kneeling I kiss
The dust from thy grave.
Sierra Madre
© Henry Van Dyke
O mother mountains! billowing far to the snowlands,
Robed in aërial amethyst, silver, and blue,
Why do ye look so proudly down on the lowlands?
What have their groves and gardens to do with you?
The Waiting Head
© Anne Sexton
If I really am walking with ordinary habit
past the same rest home on the same local street
Song
© Madison Julius Cawein
Unto the portal of the House of Song,
Symbols of wrong and emblems of unrest,
And mottoes of despair and envious jest,
And stony masks of scorn and hate belong.
Life's Uncertain Day
© Thomas Love Peacock
The briefest part of life's uncertain day,
Youth's lovely blossom, hastes to swift decay:
While love, wine, song, enhance our gayest mood
Old age creeps on, nor thought, nor understood.
Midsummer Vigil
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Night smiles on me with her stars,
Mystic, pure, enchanted, lone.
Light, that only heaven discloses,
Is in heaven that no cloud mars;
Here, through murmuring darkness blown,
Comes the scent of unseen roses.
A Perfect Sonnet
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Oh, for a perfect sonnet of all time!
Wild music, heralding immortal hopes,
Strikes the bold prelude. To it from each clime,
Like tropic birds on some green island slopes,
Nature The Consoler
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
GLADLY I hail these solitudes, and breathe
The inspiring breath of the fresh woodland air,
Most gladly to the past alone bequeath
Doubt, grief, and care;
Elegy XIX. - Written in Spring, 1743
© William Shenstone
Again the labouring hind inverts the soil;
Again the merchant ploughs the tumid wave;
Another spring renews the soldier's toil,
And finds me vacant in the rural cave.
Thoughts on Imputed Righteousness - Occasioned by Reading Theron and Aspasio : Part II.
© John Byrom
To shun much novel sentiment and nice,
I take the thing from its apparent rise;
The Tear-drop
© Robert Burns
Wae is my heart, and the tear's in my e'e;
Lang lang Joy's been a stranger to me:
Forsaken and friendless, my burden I bear,
And the sweet voice o' Pity ne'er sounds in my ear.
