Love poems
/ page 390 of 1285 /
Marching To Germany
© Jessie Pope
SWING along together, lads ; we'll have a little song,
Kits won't be so heavy and the way won't be so long.
We're goin' to cook " the Sossiges," to cook 'em hot and strong
While we go marching to Germany.
In Tuolumne Meadows
© Harriet Monroe
I Love to sit in the sun
And watch the foaming Lyell
Leap over its granite bed.
I love these days that run
On a burnished golden dial
With the blue sky overhead.
Associations
© William Lisle Bowles
As o'er these hills I take my silent rounds,
Still on that vision which is flown I dwell,
Annie Of Tharaw. (From The Low German Of Simon Dach)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
This turns to a heaven the hut where we dwell;
While wrangling soon changes a home to a hell.
Douro
© Robert Laurence Binyon
The dripping of the boughs in silence heard
Softly; the low note of some lingering bird
Amid the weeping vapour; the chill fall
Of solitary evening upon all
Good-Night
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
THE lark is silent in his nest,
The breeze is sighing in its flight,
A Noonday Vision
© Frances Anne Kemble
I saw one whom I love more than my life
Stand on a perilous edge of slippery rock,
A child said, What is the grass?
© Walt Whitman
A child said, What is the grass? fetching it to me with full
hands;
How could I answer the child?. . . .I do not know what it
is any more than he.
Tom Tyler And His Wife (excerpt)
© Anonymous
I am a poor tiler in simple array,
And get a poor living, but eightpence a day,
My wife as I get it doth spend it away,
And I cannot help it, she saith; wot we why?
For wedding and hanging is destiny.
To F. C. In Memoriam Palestine, '19
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Do you remember one immortal
Lost moment out of time and space,
By The Camp Fire
© Ada Cambridge
Ah, 'twas but now I saw the sun flush pink on yonder placid tide;
The purple hill-tops, one by one, were strangely lit and glorified;
And yet how sweet the night has grown, with palest starlights dimly sown!
On An Apple-Ripe September Morning
© Patrick Kavanagh
On an apple-ripe September morning
Through the mist-chill fields I went
With a pitch-fork on my shoulder
Less for use than for devilment.
With Ships the Sea was Sprinkled Far and Nigh
© William Wordsworth
With ships the sea was sprinkled far and nigh,
Like stars in heaven, and joyously it showed;
With A Pressed Flower
© James Russell Lowell
This little blossom from afar
Hath come from other lands to thine;
For, once, its white and drooping star
Could see its shadow in the Rhine.
An Evening Song To She Who Exists By My Name
© Daniil Ivanovich Kharms
Daughter of the daughter of the daughters of the daughter Pe
foreto the apple you ate of yee
Modern Talk
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
And then a guy gets grabbed by an army recruiter
He says we're gonna put you in the khaki suiter
So do not cry and don't you lie but take this test to qualify
The guys says blblblblblbl huhuh till then
And he's right back out on the street again
The Dream Star
© George Essex Evans
Whisper, O wings of the wind! Sing me your song, O sea!
Grey is the weary world, and grey is the heart of me!
Into my shadowy heart pierce like the star of old,
Pearl of the tender dawn, kissed by the trembling gold!
