Love poems
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The Great and Little Weavers
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
The great and the little weavers,They neither rest nor sleep.They work in the height and the glory,They toil in the dark and the deep.
An Epitaph for a Husbandman
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
He who would start and rise Before the crowing cocks, --No more he lifts his eyes, Whoever knocks.
Ave! (An Ode for the Shelley Centenary, 1892)
© Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
I Wide marshes ever washed in clearest air,Whether beneath the sole and spectral star The dear severity of dawn you wear,Or whether in the joy of ample day And speechless ecstasy of growing JuneYou lie and dream the long blue hours away Till nightfall comes too soon,Or whether, naked to the unstarred night,You strike with wondering awe my inward sight, --
II Go forth to you with longing, though the yearsThat turn not back like your returning streams And fain would mist the memory with tears,Though the inexorable years deny My feet the fellowship of your deep grass,O'er which, as o'er another, tenderer sky, Cloud phantoms drift and pass, --You know my confident love, since first, a child,Amid your wastes of green I wandered wild
White Flock
© Anna Akhmatova
Copyright Anna Akhmatova
Copyright English translation by Ilya Shambat (ilya_shambat@yahoo.com)
Origin: http://www.geocities.com/ilya_shambat/akhmatova.html
Stones from Ashbourn Churchyard
© Reibetanz John
Jesse Quantrill, MillerThe toll taken, the grist drest:Here the bran, the flour with Christ.
An Offering
© Reibetanz John
When a creature dies ... the fleshand soft parts of the body rot quickly.All that is left are the bones and teeth. (textbook entry on 'fossils')
Midland Swimmer
© Reibetanz John
'Are you asleep?'Like a door that always openson the same empty closet,the old jokey questionyou can never answer 'yes' tois a snap, in comparisonto 'Where are you?'
Iris Holden, District Nurse
© Reibetanz John
`Love's mysteries in souls do grow,But yet the body is his book.'
Cool Pastoral on Bloor Street
© Reibetanz John
I. Consider the tragic fortitude of mannikins, the courage it takes under casual poses to do nothing interminably each day.
And As It's Going..
© Anna Akhmatova
An as it's going often at love's breaking,
The ghost of first days came again to us,
Zudora
© Conrad Aiken
Here on the pale beach, in the darkness;
With the full moon just to rise;
They sit alone, and look over the sea,
Or into each other's eyes. . .
Wishes of an Elderly Man Wished at a Garden Party, June 1914
© Raleigh Walter Alexander
I wish I loved the Human Race;I wish I loved its silly face;I wish I liked the way it walks;I wish I liked the way it talks;And when I'm introduced to oneI wish I thought What Jolly Fun!
My Last Will
© Raleigh Walter Alexander
When I am safely laid away,Out of work and out of play,Sheltered by the kindly groundFrom the world of sight and sound,One or two of those I leaveWill remember me and grieve,Thinking how I made them gayBy the things I used to say;-- But the crown of their distressWill be my untidiness
The Nymph's Reply
© Ralegh Sir Walter
If all the world and love were young,And truth in every shepherd's tongue,These pretty pleasures might me moveTo live with thee and be thy love.
As You Came from the Holy Land (attributed)
© Ralegh Sir Walter
As you came from the holy land Of Walsingham,Met you not with my true love By the way as you came?
Soliloquy of a Maiden Aunt
© Radford Dollie
The ladies bow, and partners set,And turn around and pirouette And trip the Lancers.
December
© Radford Dollie
No gardener need go far to find The Christmas rose,The fairest of the flowers that mark The sweet Year's close:Nor be in quest of places where The hollies grow,Nor seek for sacred trees that hold The mistletoe
To a Child of Quality, Five Years Old, the Author Suppos'd Forty
© Matthew Prior
Lords, knights, and squires, the num'rous band, That wear the fair Miss Mary's fetters,Were summon'd by her high command, To show their passions by their letters.
