Love poems
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Scenes In London I - Piccadilly
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
THE sun is on the crowded street,
It kindles those old towers;
Where England's noblest memories meet,
Of old historic hours.
The Blessing
© Charles Baudelaire
Since I must be chosen among all women that are
To bear the lifetime's grudge of a sullen husband,
And since I cannot get rid of this caricature,
-Fling it away like old letters to be burned,
Evening Rain
© Robert Laurence Binyon
What is lovelier than rain that lingers
Falling through the western light?
The light that's red between my fingers
Bathes infinite heaven's remotest height.
Italy : 33. The Campagna Of Rome
© Samuel Rogers
Have none appeared as tillers of the ground,
None since They went -- as though it still were theirs,
And they might come and claim their own again?
Was the last plough a Roman's?
The Fens
© John Clare
Among the tawny tasselled reed
The ducks and ducklings float and feed.
With head oft dabbing in the flood
They fish all day the weedy mud,
And tumbler-like are bobbing there,
Heels topsy turvy in the air.
The Price
© Arthur Symons
Pity all faithless women who have loved. None knows
How much it hurts a woman to do wrong to love.
The mother who has felt the child within her move,
Shall she forget her child, and those ecstatic throes?
A Post-Impression
© Alfred Noyes
He sat with his foolish mouth agape at the golden glare of the sea,
And his wizened and wintry flaxen locks fluttered around his ears,
And his foolish infinite eyes were full of the sky's own glitter and glee,
As he dandled an old Dutch Doll on his knee and sang the song of the spheres.
The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto XI.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
II
This learn'd I, watching where she danced,
Native to melody and light,
And now and then toward me glanced,
Pleased, as I hoped, to please my sight.
The Perfect Sacrifice
© William Cowper
I place an offering at thy shrine,
From taint and blemish clear,
Simple and pure in its design,
Of all that I hold dear.
Since We Must Die
© Alfred Austin
Though we must die, I would not die
When fields are brown and bleak,
To Death
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
Tremble, ye proud, whose grandeur mocks the woe
Which props the column of unnatural state!
You the plainings, faint and low,
From Miserys tortured soul that flow,
Shall usher to your fate.
The Buckskin Bag of Gold
© Henry Clay Work
Last night I met him on the train-
A man with lovely eyes;
The Awakening
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
FROM day to day the dreary heaven
Outpoured its hopeless heart in rain;
The conscious pines, half shuddering, heard
The secret of the East wind's pain.
Spoken Extempore, To The Right Honourable The Lady Barbara North
© Mary Barber
This Present from a lovely Dame,
Fair and unsully'd, as her Fame,
Shall to Hibernia be convey'd,
Where once, rever'd, her Father sway'd;
And taught the drooping Arts to smile,
And with his Virtues bless'd our Isle.
Song (Untitled #12)
© George Meredith
Should thy love die;
O bury it not under ice-blue eyes!
And lips that deny,
With a scornful surprise,
The life it once lived in thy breast when it wore no disguise.
Flying Leaves
© Frances Anne Kemble
Flying leaves the wild Spring scatters,
From the silver blossomed trees,
A Legend Of Madrid
© Adam Lindsay Gordon
O'er the horn'd front drops the streamer,
In the nape the sharp steel hisses,
Glances, grazes, - Christ! Redeemer!
By a hair the spine he misses.
Verses On Receiving A Flower From His Mistress
© James Thomson
Madam, the flower that I received from you,
Ere I came home, had lost its lovely hue:
As flowers deprived of the genial day,
Its sprightly bloom did wither and decay;
