Love poems
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Contrasted Songs: A Lily And The Lute
© Jean Ingelow
“Nay! but thou a spirit art;
Men shall take thee in the mart
For the ghost of their best thought,
Raised at noon, and near them brought;
Or the prayer they made last night,
Set before them all in white.”
On The Star Of 'The Legion Of Honour' (From The French)
© George Gordon Byron
Star of the brave!--whose beam hath shed
Such glory o'er the quick and dead
Thou radiant and adored deceit!
Which millions rush'd in arms to greet,
Wild meteor of immortal birth;
Why rise in Heaven to set on Earth?
To A Young Ass, Its Mother Being Tethered Near It
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Poor little Foal of an oppressed race!
I love the languid patience of thy face:
At The Corregidors
© Madison Julius Cawein
To Don Odora says Donna De Vine:
"I yield to thy long endeavor!--
At my balcony be on the stroke of nine,
And, Signor, am thine forever!"
Death
© John Le Gay Brereton
HE, born of my girlhood, is dead, while my life is yet young in my heart
Ere the breasts where his baby lips fed have forgotten their softness, we part.
Photograph of My Father in His Twenty-Second Year
© Raymond Carver
October. Here in this dank, unfamiliar kitchen
I study my father's embarrassed young man's face.
Sheepish grin, he holds in one hand a string
of spiny yellow perch, in the other
a bottle of Carlsbad Beer.
Islet The Dachs
© George Meredith
Our Islet out of Helgoland, dismissed
From his quaint tenement, quits hates and loves.
There lived with us a wagging humourist
In that hound's arch dwarf-legged on boxing-gloves.
Sonnet XII: The Lovers' Walk
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Sweet twining hedgeflowers wind-stirred in no wise
On this June day; and hand that clings in hand:
Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks
© Pablo Neruda
All those men were there inside,
when she came in totally naked.
From The Break The Nightingale
© William Ernest Henley
From the brake the Nightingale
Sings exulting to the Rose;
The Cloud
© Charles Harpur
And oh! she said, that by some act of grace
Twere mine to succour yon fierce-toiling race,
To give the hungry meat, the thirsty drink
The thought of good is very sweet to think.
Christmas Tears
© Henry Van Dyke
The day returns by which we date our years:
Day of the joy of giving,that means love;
A Womans Sonnets: VII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
What have I gained? A little charity?
I never more may dare to fling a stone
At any weakness, nor make boast that I
A better fence or fortitude had shown;
Shepherds All And Maidens Fair
© Edith Nesbit
PIPE, shepherds, pipe, the summer's ripe;
So wreathe your crooks with flowers;
The Vision Of The Maid Of Orleans - The Third Book
© Robert Southey
The Maiden, musing on the Warrior's words,
Turn'd from the Hall of Glory. Now they reach'd
The Grief Of Love
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Love, I am sick for thee, sick with an absolute grief,
Sick with the thought of thy eyes and lips and bosom.
All the beauty I saw, I see to my hurt revealed.
All that I felt I feel to--day for my pain and sorrow.
Oft For Our Own
© Margaret Elizabeth Sangster
How many go forth in the morning
and never come home at night,
and hearts have broken
for harsh words spoken
That sorrow can never set right.
How Full of God
© Charles Harpur
To leave them dark, and such a tinge
Oer every aftersunset throw,
That it should only seem to fringe
The pall of a dead long ago.
