Love poems
/ page 377 of 1285 /
A First Review
© Robert Graves
Love, Fear and Hate and Childish Toys
Are here discreetly blent;
Admire, you ladies, read, you boys,
My Country Sentiment.
Song is Not Dead
© Robert Fuller Murray
Song is not dead, although to-day
Men tell us everything is said.
There yet is something left to say,
Song is not dead.
Louvain - To Dom Brunt Destrtt, O.S.B.
© Robert Laurence Binyon
IT was the very heart of Peace that thrilled
In the deep minster-bell's wide-throbbing sound
When over old roofs evening seemed to build
Security this world has never found.
The Last Giustianini
© Edith Wharton
O WIFE, wife, wife! As if the sacred name
Could weary one with saying! Once again
Laying against my brow your lips' soft flame,
Join with me, Sweetest, in love's new refrain,
Since the whole music of my late-found life
Is that we call each other "husband -- wife."
The Two Lovers Of Heaven: Chrysanthus And Daria - Act I
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
Chrysanthus is seen seated near a writing table on which are several
books: he is reading a small volume with deep attention.
The Turtle And Sparrow. An Elegiac Tale
© Matthew Prior
Stretch'd on the bier Columbo lies,
Pale are his cheeks, and closed his eyes;
Those eyes, where beauty smiling lay,
Those eyes, where Love was used to play;
Ah! cruel Fate, alas how soon
That beauty and those joys are flown!
The Church Of Brou
© Matthew Arnold
Down the Savoy valleys sounding,
Echoing round this castle old,
'Mid the distant mountain-chalets
Hark! what bell for church is toll'd?
When dey 'Listed Colored Soldiers
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
Dey was talkin' in de cabin, dey was talkin' in de hall;
But I listened kin' o' keerless, not a-t'inkin' 'bout it all;
Do Not Ask My Love
© Faiz Ahmed Faiz
Do not ask, my love, for the love we had before:
You existed, I told myself, so all existence shone,
Prejudice
© Jane Taylor
It is not worth our while, but if it were,
We all could undertake to laugh at her ;
Since vulgar prejudice, the lowest kind,
Of course, has full possession of her mind ;
Here, therefore, let us leave her, and inquire
Wherein it differs as it rises higher.
To The Author Of The "Victorian Poets."
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
SO keen, so clear thy genius, that no mist
Of subtlest praise can baffle or delay
The lance-like, swift illuminating ray,
Wherewith, O art-enamored annalist,
Madam Gabrina, Or the Ill-favourd Choice
© Henry King
Con mala Muger el remedio
Mucha Tierra por el medio.
I have oft wondred why thou didst elect
Thy Mistress of a stuff none could affect,
The Sweetness Of England
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
And when, at last
Escaped,-so many a green slope built on slope
A Day Dream
© Emily Jane Brontë
On a sunny brae alone I lay
One summer afternoon;
It was the marriage-time of May,
With her young lover, June.
