Love poems
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All Pain Can Be Controlled
© Neilson Shane
In the hack-the-limb-off,pull out the tooth by tying it to a doorjamb,give the child something to cry about,cold showers are best, or just ice it, or suck it up, suck all of it up,punch your dad in the belly as he tightens his muscles,ten on a scale of one to ten just means a better amount of control,your lover looking at you and saying, Are you feeling this yet?,the torturer grinning and saying, Have no fear,filling the airbag with nails,stone in the bottom of the shoe for the faithless,dreams of the euthanasia machine are best interrupted halfway through,the logical end is death,kind of way
The Story of Sigurd the Volsung
© William Morris
But therewith the sun rose upward and lightened all the earth,And the light flashed up to the heavens from the rims of the glorious girth;But they twain arose together, and with both her palms outspread,And bathed in the light returning, she cried aloud and said:"All hail, O Day and thy Sons, and thy kin of the coloured things!Hail, following Night, and thy Daughter that leadeth thy wavering wings!Look down With unangry eyes on us today alive,And give us the hearts victorious, and the gain for which we strive!All hail, ye Lords of God-home, and ye Queens of the House of Gold!Hail, thou dear Earth that bearest, and thou Wealth of field and fold!Give us, your noble children, the glory of wisdom and speech,And the hearts and the hands of healing, and the mouths and hands that teach!"
Then they turned and were knit together; and oft and o'er againThey craved, and kissed rejoicing, and their hearts were full and fain
We Were Boys Together
© Morris George Pope
We were boys together, And never can forgetThe school-house on the heather, In childhood where we met --The humble home, to memory dear; Its sorrows and its joys
Lost Content
© Moritz Albert Frank
You couples lyingwhere moon-scythes and day-scythes reaped you,browning fruit falls and sleepsin tangled nests, the wild grass,falls from your apple tree that still grows here:cry for your dead hero, his weak sword, his flight,that you were slaughtered and your bed poured whiteness,the issue of murdered marriage dawns
Home Again Home Again
© Moritz Albert Frank
Your parents had reached a long slow time,as animals do, the great center of their lives,when they gleam in their fells as though eternally,unchanging
Conversation with a Widow
© Moritz Albert Frank
Uncle Johnny died after rigid yearsof cutting hair in his shop downtown
Addiction
© Moritz Albert Frank
I wish we could control this revoltingwant of control: these peoplewith their spongy eyes, their mouthsof trembling shoehorns, billhooks for penisesand bear traps for vulvas
Air -- "Belle Mahone"
© Julia A Moore
Once there was a lady fair, With black eyes and curly hair,She has left this world of care, Sweet Carrie Munro.
Town Eclogues: Wednesday; The Tête à Tête
© Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
DANCINDA. " NO, fair DANCINDA, no ; you strive in vain" To calm my care and mitigate my pain ;" If all my sighs, my cares, can fail to move," Ah ! sooth me not with fruitless vows of love."
The Dean’s Provocation for Writing the Dressing-Room
© Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
The Doctor, in a clean starch'd band,His golden snuff box in his hand,With care his diamond ring displays,And artful shows its various Rays;While grave he stalks down -- StreetHis dearest -- to meet
The Virgin
© Harold Monro
Arms that have never held me; lips of himWho should have been for me; hair most beloved,I would have smoothed so gently; steadfast eyes,Half-closed, yet gazing at me through the dusk;And hands
Midnight Lamentation
© Harold Monro
When you and I go downBreathless and cold,Our faces both worn backTo earthly mould,How lonely we shall be!What shall we do,You without me,I without you?
Lovers in a London Shadow
© Harold Monro
You two, who woo, take record of to-night;(This corner, that arc-light):For you may never feel againSuch joyful pain.
Verses Wrote on her Death-Bed at Bath, to her Husband, in London
© Mary Monck
THOU, who dost all my worldly thoughts employ,Thou pleasing source of all my earthly joy :Thou tend'rest husband, and thou best of friends,To thee this first, this last adieu I send
The Whiffenpoof Song
© Minnigerode Meade
To the tables down at Mory's,To the place where Louis dwells,To the dear old Temple Bar we love so well,Sing the Whiffenpoofs assembled
Sonnet XXIII: Methought I Saw my Late Espoused Saint
© John Milton
Methought I saw my late espoused saint Brought to me, like Alcestis, from the grave, Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave, Rescu'd from death by force, though pale and faint
Sonnet XII: I did but Prompt the Age to Quit their Clogs
© John Milton
I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs By the known rules of ancient liberty, When straight a barbarous noise environs me Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes and dogs:As when those hinds that were transform'd to frogs Rail'd at Latona's twin-born progeny Which after held the sun and moon in fee
Paradise Regain'd: Book IV (1671)
© John Milton
PErplex'd and troubl'd at his bad successThe Tempter stood, nor had what to reply,Discover'd in his fraud, thrown from his hope,So oft, and the perswasive RhetoricThat sleek't his tongue, and won so much on Eve,So little here, nay lost; but Eve was Eve,This far his over-match, who self deceiv'dAnd rash, before-hand had no better weigh'dThe strength he was to cope with, or his own:But as a man who had been matchless heldIn cunning, over-reach't where least he thought,To salve his credit, and for very spightStill will be tempting him who foyls him still,And never cease, though to his shame the more;Or as a swarm of flies in vintage time,About the wine-press where sweet moust is powr'd,Beat off, returns as oft with humming sound;Or surging waves against a solid rock,Though all to shivers dash't, the assault renew,Vain battry, and in froth or bubbles end;So Satan, whom repulse upon repulseMet ever; and to shameful silence brought,Yet gives not o're though desperate of success,And his vain importunity pursues
