Love poems

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Homer's Hymn To The Earth: Mother Of All

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

Mother of gods, thou Wife of starry Heaven,
Farewell! be thou propitious, and be given
A happy life for this brief melody,
Nor thou nor other songs shall unremembered be.

But when, asudden, swift on angry flash,
Rumbled imperious thunder overhead,
At the commanding mandate, Sisyphus,
Bulkily rising, straightened limbs relaxed,
And turned him yet again unto his task,
Mumbling the while habitual lament.

Italy : 29. Montorio

© Samuel Rogers

Generous, and ardent, and as romantic as he could be,
Montorio was in his earliest youth, when, on a summer-
evening, not many years ago, he arrived at the Baths of
* * *. With a heavy heart, and with many a blessing on

Pour Qui Sait Attendre

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

All things, they say, come home to those that wait,
Riches, power, fame, lost fortune, hope deferred,
Health to our friends, ill hap to those we hate,
Even love, that glorious paradisal bird,

The Birthright

© Rudyard Kipling

The miracle of our land's speech-so known

And long received, none marvel when 'tis shown!

The Birth Of Spring

© Denis Florence MacCarthy

O Kathleen, my darling, I've dreamt such a dream,

'Tis as hopeful and bright as the summer's first beam:

The Orchard-Pit

© Dante Gabriel Rossetti

The Orchard-Pit
Piled deep below the screening apple-branch
They lie with bitter apples in their hands:
And some are only ancient bones that blanch,
And some had ships that last year's wind did launch,
And some were yesterday the lords of lands.

Nancy of the Vale

© William Shenstone

The western sky was purpled o'er
With every pleasing ray;
And flocks reviving felt no more
The sultry heats of day;

Mount Of Olives (I)

© Henry Vaughan

1.

SWEET, sacred hill ! on whose fair brow

Her Face And Brow

© James Whitcomb Riley

Ah, help me! but her face and brow

Are lovelier than lilies are

At Dover

© William Lisle Bowles

Thou, whose stern spirit loves the storm,

That, borne on Terror's desolating wings,

Husband And Wife

© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

The world had chafed his spirit proud
By its wearing, crushing strife,
The censure of the thoughtless crowd
Had touched a blameless life;
Like the dove of old, from the waters foam,
He wearily turned to the ark of home.

The Art of Love: Book Two

© Ovid

…Short partings do best, though: time wears out affections,

The absent love fades, a new one takes its place.

Confused and Distraught

Again I am raging,
I am in such a state by your soul that every
bond you bind, I break, by your soul.
I am like heaven, like the moon, like a candle by your glow;
I am all reason, all love, all soul, by your soul.