Love poems
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Response
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
When Phyllis sighs and from her eyes
The light dies out; my soul replies
With misery of deep-drawn breath,
E'en as it were at war with death.
Davie Gellatley's Song
© Sir Walter Scott
Young men will love thee more fair and more fast;
Heard ye so merry the little bird sing?
Old men's love the longest will last,
And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing.
On The Stair
© Annie Campbell Huestis
AS I went lonely up the stair
Ah me, the ghost that I saw there!
Longing
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
IF you could sit with me beside the sea to-day,
And whisper with me sweetest dreamings o'er and o'er;
Lost Counsel
© Margaret Widdemer
IF you were but near me,
O kindest and best,
I could tell you my trouble,
And I could have rest;
Mary Leslie
© Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
Here by the bivouac fire, above
These fields of savage play,
I'll lift my love to meet thy love
Twa thousand miles away,
The First Love Dream
© Henry Clay Work
Last night, mother, he told me so,
As we walked by the pebbly stream;
Tauler
© John Greenleaf Whittier
And as he walked he prayed. Even the same
Old prayer with which, for half a score of years,
Morning, and noon, and evening, lip and heart
Had groaned: "Have pity upon me, Lord!
Thou seest, while teaching others, I am blind.
Send me a man who can direct my steps!"
Epilogue
© Edgar Lee Masters
You're dreaming worlds. I'm in the King row.
Move as you will, if I can't wreck you
I'll thwart you, harry you, rout you, check you.
He Needed Not
© George MacDonald
Of whispering trees the tongues to hear,
And sermons of the silent stone;
To read in brooks the print so clear
Of motion, shadowy light, and tone-
That man hath neither eye nor ear
Who careth not for human moan.
One star only for Love's heaven
© Augusta Davies Webster
ONE star only for Love's heaven;
One rose only for Love's breast;
One love only to be given.
Break o Day
© Henry Lawson
I was born to ruin or born to mar
The home wherever I light.
Oh! I wish that you were the Evening Star
And that I were the Fall o Night.
The Sweet Little Man
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Now, while our soldiers are fighting our battles,
Each at his post to do all that he can,
Down among rebels and contraband chattels,
What are you doing, my sweet little man?
Verses II
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Supposed to have been written in the New Forest,
in early Spring.
AS in the woods, where leathery Lichen weaves
Its wint'ry web among the sallow leaves,
Apostrophe
© Charlotte Turner Smith
TO AN OLD TREE.
WHERE thy broad branches brave the bitter North,
Like rugged, indigent, unheeded, worth,
Lo! Vegetation's guardian hands emboss
Jerusalem Delivered - Book 03 - part 03
© Torquato Tasso
XXXI
The villain flies, he, full of rage and ire,
Why Silent?
© Henry Timrod
Why am I silent from year to year?
Needs must I sing on these blue March days?
What will you say, when I tell you here,
That already, I think, for a little praise,
I have paid too dear?
To Timarion
© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
HAD I the thrush's throat, I could not sing you
Songs sweeter than his own. And I'm too poor
To lay the gifts that other lovers bring you
Low at your silver door.
On Lucy, Countess of Bedford
© Benjamin Jonson
This morning, timely rapt with holy fire,
I thought to form unto my zealous Muse
