Love poems
/ page 319 of 1285 /Thoughts Fer The Discuraged Farmer
© James Whitcomb Riley
The summer winds is sniffin' round the bloomin'
locus' trees;
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.
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,
The Rosy Bosomd Hours
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
A florin to the willing Guard
Secured, for half the way,
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";
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.
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,
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
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.
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.
Fourth Sunday After Epiphany
© John Keble
They know the Almighty's power,
Who, wakened by the rushing midnight shower,
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.
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.
Shrine Of The Virgin - Part II
© John Kenyon
She cometh to the seaward shrine,
A mother, with her children three;
The Curse
© John Donne
Whoever guesses, thinks, or dreams, he knows
Who is my mistress, wither by this curse ;
American Boys, Hello!
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Oh! we love all the French, and we speak in French
As along through France we go.