Love poems
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A Love Song
© Virna Sheard
Oh haste, my Sweet! Impatient now I wait,
The crescent moon swings low, it groweth late,
A night bird sings, of Life, and Love, and Fate!
Hesiod: Or, The Rise Of Woman
© Thomas Parnell
Gold-scepter'd Juno next exalts the Fair;
Her Touch endows her with imperious Air,
Self-valuing Fancy, highly-crested Pride,
Strong sov'reign Will, and some Desire to chide:
For which, an Eloquence, that aims to vex,
With native Tropes of Anger, arms the Sex.
The Botanic Garden (Part VI)
© Erasmus Darwin
"Born in yon blaze of orient sky,
"Sweet MAY! thy radiant form unfold;
"Unclose thy blue voluptuous eye,
"And wave thy shadowy locks of gold.
Peggy
© Robert Burns
O, my luve is like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June.
O, my love is like a melodie,
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
The Ghetto
© Lola Ridge
Cool, inaccessible air
Is floating in velvety blackness shot with steel-blue lights,
But no breath stirs the heat
Leaning its ponderous bulk upon the Ghetto
And most on Hester street…
The Elixir
© Emma Lazarus
"Oh brew me a potion strong and good!
One golden drop in his wine
Shall charm his sense and fire his blood,
And bend his will to mine."
Poland
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Augurs that watched archaic birds
Such plumèd prodigies might read,
Book Of Suleika - Suleika 04
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
WITH what inward joy, sweet lay,
I thy meaning have descried!
Her Portrait
© Madison Julius Cawein
Were I an artist, Lydia, I
Would paint you as you merit,
Not as my eyes, but dreams, descry;
Not in the flesh, but spirit.
To A Lady Playing The Harp
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Thy tones are silver melted into sound,
And as I dream
I see no walls around,
But seem to hear
A gondolier
Sing sweetly down some slow Venetian stream.
On Marriage.
© Robert Crawford
Whom Love has joined no man may put asunder,
And he has never joined those who can part:
Marriage is this, no more, howe'er priests moan;
The rest is words, mere words, and custom's vapour
The heart will brush aside as easily
As fancy paints a picture.
L'Homme Moyen Sensuel
© Ezra Pound
Yet Radway went. A circumspectious prig!
And then that woman like a guinea-pig
Accosted, that's the word, accosted him,
Thereon the amorous calor slightly frosted him.
(I burn, I freeze, I sweat, said the fair Greek,
I speak in contradictions, so to speak.)
The Present Age
© Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
Say not the age is hard and cold--
I think it brave and grand;
When men of diverse sects and creeds
Are clasping hand in hand.
I Apprehend You...
© Alexander Blok
I apprehend You. The years pass by -
Yet in constant form, I apprehend You.
The Troubadour
© Sir Walter Scott
Glowing with love, on fire for fame
A Troubadour that hated sorrow
Cyder: Book I
© John Arthur Phillips
What Soil the Apple loves, what Care is due
To Orchats, timeliest when to press the Fruits,
Thy Gift, Pomona, in Miltonian Verse
Adventrous I presume to sing; of Verse
Nor skill'd, nor studious: But my Native Soil
Invites me, and the Theme as yet unsung.
On The Death Of A Believer
© John Newton
In vain my fancy strives to paint
The moment after death
The glories that surround the saint,
When yielding up its breath.
Via Amoris
© Edith Nesbit
If this were Love why should I turn away?
Am I not, too, made of the common clay?
Is life so fair, am I so fortunate,
I can refuse the capricious gift of Fate,
The sudden glory, the unhoped-for flowers,
The transfiguration of my earthly hours?
