Love poems
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Heavenly Love
© George Moses Horton
Eternal spring of boundless grace,
It lifts the soul above,
Where God the Son unveils his face,
And shows that Heaven is love.
Laus Deo
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
IN the hall the coffin waits, and the idle armourer stands.
At his belt the coffin nails, and the hammer in his hands.
To The Companions
© Rudyard Kipling
How comes it that, at even-tide,
When level beams should show most truth,
Man, failing, takes unfailing pride
In memories of his frolic youth?
Spring
© Madison Julius Cawein
First came the rain, loud, with sonorous lips;
A pursuivant who heralded a prince:
A La Promenade
© Paul Verlaine
The milky sky, the hazy, slender trees,
Seem smiling on the light costumes we wear,-
Our gauzy floating veils that have an air
Of wings, our satins fluttering in the breeze.
Possum Trot
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
I 've journeyed 'roun' consid'able, a-seein' men an' things,
An' I 've learned a little of the sense that meetin' people brings;
But in spite of all my travelling an' of all I think I know,
I 've got one notion in my head, that I can't git to go;
An' it is that the folks I meet in any other spot
Ain't half so good as them I knowed back home in Possum Trot.
Music
© Kenneth Slessor
I
MUSIC, on the air's edge, rides alone,
Plumed like empastured Caesars of the sky
With a god's helmet; now, in the gold dye
First Love
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
BY the pulse that beats in my throat
By my heart like a bird
I know who passed through the dusk
Though he spoke no word!
The Maryland Yellow-Throat
© Henry Van Dyke
While May bedecks the naked trees
With tassels and embroideries,
Delphi
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Beneath the vintage moon's uncertain light,
And some faint stars that pierced the film of cloud,
Stood those Parnassian peaks before my sight,
Whose fame throughout the ancient world was loud.
The Robin
© John Greenleaf Whittier
MY old Welsh neighbor over the way
Crept slowly out in the sun of spring,
Pushed from her ears the locks of gray,
And listened to hear the robin sing.
The Fugitives
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
The waters are flashing,
The white hail is dashing,
The lightnings are glancing,
The hoar-spray is dancing
Away!
The Bees and Flies
© Rudyard Kipling
The egregious rustic put to death
A bull by stopping of its breath,
Disposed the carcass in a shed
With fragrant herbs and branches spread,
And, having well performed the charm,
Sat down to wait the promised swarm.
The Place Where The Rainbow Ends
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
THERE'S a fabulous story
Full of splendor and glory,
The Voice Of The Banjo
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
In a small and lonely cabin out of noisy traffic's way,
Sat an old man, bent and feeble, dusk of face, and hair of gray,
And beside him on the table, battered, old, and worn as he,
Lay a banjo, droning forth this reminiscent melody:
The Curse of Mother Flood
© Henry Kendall
Wizened the wood is, and wan is the way through it;
White as a corpse is the face of the fen;
Far and Near
© George MacDonald
Blue sky above, blue sea below,
Far off, the old Nile's mouth,
'Twas a blue world, wherein did blow
A soft wind from the south.
