Love poems
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Sand Martins
© Jean Ingelow
I passed an inland-cliff precipitate;
From tiny caves peeped many a soot-black poll;
In each a mother-martin sat elate,
And of the news delivered her small soul.
The Panama Canal
© Edgar Albert Guest
ABOVE it flies the flag we love,
Within it is the blood we gave;
Italy : 31. A Funeral
© Samuel Rogers
'Whence this delay?' "Along the crowded street
A Funeral comes, and with unusual pomp."
So I withdrew a little, and stood still,
While it went by. 'She died as she deserved,'
A Christmas Colloquy
© John Crowe Ransom
ANN:
Father, what will there be for me
To-morrow on the Christmas tree?
Have you told Santa what to bring,
My pony, my doll, and everything?
Advice To A Friend On Marriage
© Eustache Deschamps
Soon you will long that you were dead
When married; seek in street or lane
Some love. No! Passion bids me wed.
You're crazybatter out your brain.
Quan l'herba fresqu'el.h folha
© Bernard de Ventadorn
Can l'erba fresch'e.lh folha par
e la flors boton'el verjan
On Mr. Howard's Account Of Lazarettos
© William Lisle Bowles
Mortal! who, armed with holy fortitude,
The path of good right onward hast pursued;
The Shepherd Lady
© Jean Ingelow
Who pipes upon the long green hill,
Where meadow grass is deep?
The white lamb bleats but followeth on-
Follow the clean white sheep.
The dear white lady in yon high tower,
She hearkeneth in her sleep.
Fand, A Feerie Act II
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
In the land of the living are kingdoms twain,
Kingdoms twain,--nay, kingdoms three;
One is of sunshine and one of rain,
And one of the moonlight without a stain.
The moonlight people, of these are we,
The ever--happy, the Sidhe, the Sidhe.
The Coo Of The Cushat
© Ada Cambridge
Over the smooth lawns, broider'd with violets,
Over the hedges of snow-white thorn,
Over the billowy, pink apple-blossoms,
The musical coo of the cushat is borne.
To Santa Claus
© James Whitcomb Riley
Most tangible of all the gods that be,
O Santa Claus-- our own since Infancy!
As first we scampered to thee-- now, as then,
Take us as children to thy heart again.
L'Envoi
© Herman Melville
My towers at last! These rovings end,
Their thirst is slaked in larger dearth:
The yearning infinite recoils,
For terrible is earth.
The Fire
© Edith Nesbit
I was picking raspberries, my head was in the canes,
And he came behind and kissed me, and I smacked him for his pains.
St. Matthias' Day
© John Keble
Who is God's chosen priest?
He, who on Christ stands waiting day and night,
Who traceth His holy steps, nor ever ceased,
From Jordan banks to Bethphage height:
Lockerbie Street
© Bliss William Carman
For The Brthday Of James Whitcomb Riley, October 7, 1914
LOCKERBIE STREET is a little street,
Just one block long;
But the days go there with a magical air,
Olney Hymn 40: Peace After A Storm
© William Cowper
When darkness long has veil'd my mind,
And smiling day once more appears,
Then, my Redeemer, then I find
The folly of my doubts and fears.
Message
© Sara Teasdale
I heard a cry in the night,
A thousand miles it came,
Sharp as a flash of light,
My name, my name!
