Love poems

 / page 319 of 1285 /
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Thoughts Fer The Discuraged Farmer

© James Whitcomb Riley

The summer winds is sniffin' round the bloomin'

  locus' trees;

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Hunger

© Gamaliel Bradford

I love to wander widely, but I understand a cell,
Where you tell and tell your beads because you've
nothing else to tell,
Where the crimson joy of flesh, with all its wild
fantastic tricks,
Is forgotten in the blinding glory of the crucifix.

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Nothing Is Enough!

© Robert Laurence Binyon

No, though our all be spent-
Heart's extremest love,
Spirit's whole intent,
All that nerve can feel,

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The Rosy Bosom’d Hours

© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore

A florin to the willing Guard

  Secured, for half the way,

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Bordighiera

© John Kenyon

(BETWEEN NICE AND GENOA)


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The Family Doctor

© Edgar Albert Guest

I've tried the high-toned specialists, who doctor folks to-day;

I've heard the throat man whisper low "Come on now let us spray";

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The Poor House

© Sara Teasdale

Hope went by and Peace went by
And would not enter in;
Youth went by and Health went by
And Love that is their kin.

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Thursday Before Easter

© John Keble

"O holy mountain of my God,

"How do thy towers in ruin lie,

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Song Of A Mad Girl, Whose Lover Has Died At Sea

© Sydney Thompson Dobell

Under the green white blue of this and that and the other,

That and the other, and that and the other, for ever and ever,

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Off Shore

© Celia Thaxter

Rock, little boat, beneath the quiet sky,
Only the stars behold us where we lie, -
Only the stars and yonder brightening moon

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In The Placid Summer Midnight

© William Ernest Henley

In the placid summer midnight,
Under the drowsy sky,
I seem to hear in the stillness
The moths go glimmering by.

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Seeing The Duke Of Ormond's Picture, At Sir Godfrey Kneller's

© Matthew Prior

O Kneller! could thy shades and lights express
The perfect hero in that glorious dress,
Ages to come might Ormond's picture know,
And palms for thee beneath his laurels grow;
In spite of time thy work might ever thine,
Nor Homer's colours last so long as thine.

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Fourth Sunday After Epiphany

© John Keble

They know the Almighty's power,

  Who, wakened by the rushing midnight shower,

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Song III

© Edith Nesbit

WE loved, my love, and now it seems
  Our love has brought to birth
Friendship, the fairest child of dreams,
  The rarest gift of earth.

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Song: One Hard Look

© Robert Graves

Small gnats that fly
In hot July
And lodge in sleeping ears,
Can rouse therein
A trumpet's din
With Day-of-Judgement fears.

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Bitter And Sweet

© John Newton

Kindle, Saviour, in my heart,

A flame of love divine;

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Shrine Of The Virgin - Part II

© John Kenyon

She cometh to the seaward shrine,

  A mother, with her children three;

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The Curse

© John Donne

Whoever guesses, thinks, or dreams, he knows

Who is my mistress, wither by this curse ;

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He Called Her In

© James Whitcomb Riley

I

He called her in from me and shut the door.

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American Boys, Hello!

© Wilcox Ella Wheeler

Oh! we love all the French, and we speak in French

As along through France we go.