Love poems
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Little Moozoo-May
© George Ade
The rose of June can feel no sorrow,
It never droops or says " Ah me! "
David And Goliath. A Sacred Drama
© Hannah More
Great Lord of all things! Power divine!
Breathe on this erring heart of mine
Thy grace serene and pure:
Defend my frail, my erring youth,
And teach me this important truth--
The humble are secure!
The Heroic Enthusiasts - Part The First =Third Dialogue.=
© Giordano Bruno
CIC. I do not believe it is always like that, Tansillo; because,
sometimes, notwithstanding that we discover the spirit to be vicious, we
remain heated and entangled; so that, although reason perceives the evil
and unworthiness of such a love, it yet has not power to alienate the
disordered appetite. In this disposition, I believe, was the Nolano when
he said:
The Revolt Of Islam: Canto I-XII
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
There is no danger to a man, that knows
What life and death is: there's not any law
Exceeds his knowledge; neither is it lawful
That he should stoop to any other law.
-Chapman.
Book Twelfth [Imagination And Taste, How Impaired And Restored ]
© William Wordsworth
What wonder, then, if, to a mind so far
Perverted, even the visible Universe
Fell under the dominion of a taste
Less spiritual, with microscopic view
Was scanned, as I had scanned the moral world?
To John Keats
© James Henry Leigh Hunt
'Tis well you think me truly one of those,
Whose sense discerns the loveliness of things;
For surely as I feel the bird that sings
Behind the leaves, or dawn as it up grows,
June On The Merrimac
© John Greenleaf Whittier
O dwellers in the stately towns,
What come ye out to see?
This common earth, this common sky,
This water flowing free?
An Incident In A Railroad Car
© James Russell Lowell
He spoke of Burns: men rude and rough
Pressed round to hear the praise of one
Whose heart was made of manly, simple stuff,
As homespun as their own.
Sonnet : From The Italian Of Cavalcanti
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
GUIDO CAVALCANTI TO DANTE ALIGHIERI:
Returning from its daily quest, my Spirit
Changed thoughts and vile in thee doth weep to find:
It grieves me that thy mild and gentle mind
"When my lover put the sea between us"
© Lesbia Harford
When my lover put the sea between us
And went wandering in Italy
My poor silly heart miscalled his journey
"Leaving me".
The Lamp Of Greece
© Robert Laurence Binyon
The mind has flowered where she wooed the seed
Up from the darkness into beauty: there
Love listens, divine music fills the air,
Though we by glimpses only understand
Who in the present anguish of our need
Long for the light as for our native land.
The Ugly Princess
© Charles Kingsley
My parents bow, and lead them forth,
For all the crowd to see-
Ah well! the people might not care
To cheer a dwarf like me.
Song (Untitled #13)
© George Meredith
Under boughs of breathing May,
In the mild spring-time I lay,
Lonely, for I had no love;
And the sweet birds all sang for pity,
Cuckoo, lark, and dove.
The Origin of Cupid -- A Fable
© Mary Darby Robinson
MARS first his best excuses made,
War his delight and ancient trade;
Old NEPTUNE vow'd at such an age,
In state affairs he'd not engage:
BACCHUS preferr'd a draught of nectar
To any monarch's crown and sceptre.
Epilogue
© William Ernest Henley
These, to you now, O, more than ever now -
Now that the Ancient Enemy
Planting the Sand Cherry by Ann Struthers: American Life in Poetry #171 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laurea
© Ted Kooser
Sometimes I think that people are at their happiest when they're engaged in activities close to the work of the earliest humans: telling stories around a fire, taking care of children, hunting, making clothes. Here an Iowan, Ann Struthers, speaks of one of those original tasks, digging in the dirt.
Planting the Sand Cherry
An Ode, On Reading Mr. Richardson's History Of Sir Charles Grandison
© William Cowper
Say, ye apostate and profane,
Wretches, who blush not to disdain
Allegiance to your God,--
Did e'er your idly wasted love
Of virtue for her sake remove
And lift you from the crowd?
The Bush Lover
© Leon Gellert
He lingers in the lazy grass
And talks of loneliness with trees,
The clouds pass, and the hours pass;
And far afield he hears the bees.
Fear of the Inexplicable
© Rainer Maria Rilke
But fear of the inexplicable has not alone impoverished
the existence of the individual; the relationship between
