Love poems

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The Lovers. A Poem

© John Logan

Harriet
I fear to go--I dare not stay.
Look back.--I dare not look that way.

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Ode To Napoleon Buonaparte

© George Gordon Byron

'Expends Annibalem:--quot libras in duce summo

Invenies?~JUVENAL., Sat. X.

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Wednesday Before Easter

© John Keble

O Lord my God, do thou Thy holy will -
  I will lie still -
I will not stir, lest I forsake Thine arm,
  And break the charm
Which lulls me, clinging to my Father's breast,
  In perfect rest.

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The Dream-Ship

© Eugene Field

When the world is fast asleep,
  Along the midnight skies-
As though it were a wandering cloud-
  The ghostly dream-ship flies.

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The Complaisant Friend

© Pierre Louys

The storm lasted all night. Selenis, with her lovely
hair, came to spin with me. She stayed for fear of
the mud, and we filled my little bed, clasped close
to each other. When two girls go to bed together, sleep

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With Madness Like to Mine

© Shams al-Din Hafiz

NOT one is filled with madness like to mine
In all the taverns! my soiled robe lies here,
There my neglected book, both pledged for wine.
With dust my heart is thick, that should be clear,

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Love Me A Little

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Love me a little, love me as thou wilt,
Whether a draught it be of passionate wine
Poured with both hands divine,
Or just a cup of water spilt

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On The Death Of Mr Aikman

© James Thomson

Oh, could I draw, my friend, thy genuine mind,

Just as the living forms by thee designed;

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Love In Their Little Veins Inspires

© Thomas Shadwell

Love in their little veins inspires

their cheerful notes, their soft desires.

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The Fountain Of Youth

© James Russell Lowell

I

'Tis a woodland enchanted!

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Anhelli - Chapter 8

© Juliusz Slowacki

And they came to a subterranean lake,
and proceeded along the shores of the dark water,
which stirred not, but was golden in places from the light of torches.

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New Year's Eve: A Waking Dream

© George MacDonald

I have not any fearful tale to tell

Of fabled giant or of dragon-claw,

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A Wreath Of Sonnets (1/14)

© France Preseren

A Slovene wreath your poet has entwined,
Of fifteen sonnets is the chaplet bound,
And in it thrice the Master Theme must sound:
Thus are the other harmonies combined.

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The Last Of The Roses

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

A ROYAL rose! A rose how darkly red!
A proud, voluptuous, full blown flower, that sways
Her sceptre o'er the wind-swept garden-ways,
With mantling cheek and bold, imperious head!

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When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd

© Walt Whitman


When lilacs last in the door-yard bloom’d,
And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night,
I mourn’d—and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.

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The Bas Bleu: Or, Conversation. Addressed To Mrs. Vesey

© Hannah More

VESEY, of Verse the judge and friend,

Awhile my idle strain attend:

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From “Evangeline”

© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow,
All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing,
All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience!
And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom,  
Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured,
  “Father, I thank thee!”

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The Town Karnteel

© James Whitcomb Riley

There's not its likes in Ireland--
For twic't the week, be gorries!
They're playing jigs upon the band,
And joomping there in sacks-- and-- and--
And racing, wid wheelborries!

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St. Simon And St. Jude

© John Keble

Seest thou, how tearful and alone,
  And drooping like a wounded dove,
The Cross in sight, but Jesus gone,
  The widowed Church is fain to rove?