Love poems
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Should've
© Dutton Paul
You should've loved me, I guess;should've guessed I would have you'n' love'd've been whatwould've, should've been'n' I'd've loved youif you'd've loved me, I guessif I'd been lovingyou'd've had meloving you,only youloving having me'n' 'd've beenlove'n' 'd've hadyou'n' 'd'veyou 'n' me'n' bein' in love'n' I'd have you, love,'n' you'd have me'n' love'd have us'n' we'd have love'n' you'n' I'n' love'n' I should've loved you, I guess;should've guessedyou would have me
A Sea of Foliage Girds our Garden round
© Toru Dutt
A sea of foliage girds our garden round, But not a sea of dull unvaried green, Sharp contrasts of all colors here are seen;The light-green graceful tamarinds aboundAmid the mango clumps of green profound, And palms arise, like pillars gray, between; And o'er the quiet pools the seemuls lean,Red-red, and startling like a trumpet's sound
Ten Precepts from Dhammapada
© Romesh Chunder Dutt
Return Love for Hatred.1.2 Hatred lives and mortal strife;1.3Love return for bitter hatred,1.4 Hatred dies, and sweet is life! (5)
An Evening Contemplation in a College
© Duncombe John
The Curfew tolls the hour of closing gates,With jarring sound the porter turns the key,Then in his dreary mansion slumb'ring waits,And slowly, sternly quits it -- tho' for me.
Alexander's Feast
© John Dryden
I By Philip's warlike son: Aloft in awful state The godlike hero sate On his imperial throne; His valiant peers were plac'd around;Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound: (So should desert in arms be crown'd
Song: Phoebus Arise
© William Drummond (of Hawthornden)
Phœbus, arise,And paint the sable skiesWith azure, white, and red;Rouse Memnon's mother from her Tithon's bedThat she thy career may with roses spread;The nightingales thy coming each where sing;Make an eternal spring;Give life to this dark world which lieth dead
Idea: To the Reader of these Sonnets
© Michael Drayton
Into these loves, who but for passion looks,At this first sight here let him lay them byAnd seek elsewhere in turning other books,Which better may his labour satisfy
Idea XXXI
© Michael Drayton
Methinks I see some crooked mimic jeerAnd tax my muse with this fantastic grace,Turning my papers, asks "what have we here?"Making withall some filthy antic face
Idea LI
© Michael Drayton
Calling to mind since first my love begun,Th' incertain times oft varying in their course,How things still unexpectedly have run,As t' please the fates by their resistless force:Lastly, mine eyes amazedly have seenEssex' great fall, Tyrone his peace to gain,The quiet end of that long-living Queen,This King's fair entrance, and our peace with Spain,We and the Dutch at length ourselves to sever:Thus the world doth and evermore shall reel
Endimion and Phoebe
© Michael Drayton
In Ionia whence sprang old poets' fame,From whom that sea did first derive her name,The blessed bed whereon the Muses lay,Beauty of Greece, the pride of Asia,Whence Archelaus, whom times historify,First unto Athens brought philosophy:In this fair region on a goodly plain,Stretching her bounds unto the bord'ring main,The mountain Latmus overlooks the sea,Smiling to see the ocean billows play:Latmus, where young Endymion used to keepHis fairest flock of silver-fleeced sheep,To whom Silvanus often would resort,At barley-brake to see the Satyrs sport;And when rude Pan his tabret list to sound,To see the fair Nymphs foot it in a round,Under the trees which on this mountain grew,As yet the like Arabia never knew;For all the pleasures Nature could deviseWithin this plot she did imparadise;And great Diana of her special graceWith vestal rites had hallowed all the place
The Song of the Bow
© Doyle Arthur Conan
What of the bow? The bow was made in England:Of true wood, of yew-wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love the old yew-treeAnd the land where the yew-tree grows.
Vitæ Summa Brevis Spem nos Vetet Incohare Longam
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
They are not long, the weeping and the laughter, Love and desire and hate;I think they have no portion in us after We pass the gate.
La Belle et la Bête
© Mark Doty
"My heart," he said, "is the heartof a beast." What could she dobut love him? First she must resist:the copper bowls gleaming on the rack
Twicknam Garden
© John Donne
Blasted with sighs, and surrounded with tears, Hither I come to seek the spring, And at mine eyes, and at mine ears,Receive such balms as else cure every thing; But oh, self-traitor, I do bringThe spider love, which transubstantiates all, And can convert manna to gall,And that this place may thoroughly be thoughtTrue paradise, I have the serpent brought
