Love poems
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A Whaler's Confession
© Harry Kemp
Three long years a-sailing, three long years a-whaling,
Kicking through the ice floes, caught in calm or gale,
Lost in flat Sargasso seas, cursing at the prickly heat,
Going months without a sight of another sail.
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XXXVIII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
TO ONE NOW ESTRANGED
Why did you love me? Was it not enough
That the world loved you, all the world and I?
Or was your heart of so sublime a stuff
Santa Christina
© Henry Van Dyke
Saints are God's flowers, fragrant souls
That His own hand hath planted,
At My Window After Sunset
© George MacDonald
Heaven and the sea attend the dying day,
And in their sadness overflow and blend-
Faint gold, and windy blue, and green and gray:
Far out amid them my pale soul I send.
Blooms Of May
© James Whitcomb Riley
But yesterday!...
O blooms of May,
And summer roses--Where-away?
O stars above,
And lips of love
And all the honeyed sweets thereof!
Keeping His First Wife Now
© Henry Lawson
ITS OH! for a rivet in marriage bonds,
And a splice in the knot untied
The Talking Oak
© Alfred Tennyson
Once more the gate behind me falls;
Once more before my face
I see the moulder'd Abbey-walls,
That stand within the chace.
What Is Love?
© Paramahansa Yogananda
Love is the scent with the lotus born.
It is the silent choirs of petals
Singing the winters harmony of uniform beauty.
Love is the song of the soul, singing to God.
It is the balanced rhythmic dance of planets - sun and moon lit
The Four Seasons : Winter
© James Thomson
See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year,
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train;
Vapours, and clouds, and storms. Be these my theme,
These! that exalt the soul to solemn thought,
On A Lady With A Foul Breath
© Thomas Parnell
Art thou alive? It cannot be,
There's so much Rottenness in Thee,
Quand Meme
© Edith Nesbit
AGE pauses on his toilsome way
To let youth pluck her flowers of play;
Flowers are not always, but we may
Cut thorns and thistles any day.
Hymn To Spiritual Desire
© Madison Julius Cawein
Come, oh, come and partake
Of necromance banquets of Beauty; and slake
Thy thirst in the waters of Art,
That are drawn from the streams
Of love and of dreams.
Dora
© Charles Harpur
Im happy now in thinking how happy I was then,
When towards the glowing west my love went homeward down the glen;
Went homeward down the glen, while my comfort surer grew,
Till methought the old-faced hills at looked as they were happy too.
Sleep
© James Whitcomb Riley
Thou drowsy god, whose blurred eyes, half awink
Muse on me--, drifting out upon thy dreams,
The Best Of All
© Gamaliel Bradford
Sleep and turn and sleep again,
Spite of the morning birds.
I am weary of strife with men,
Weary of fruitless words.
The House Of Dust: Part 03: 04:
© Conrad Aiken
She played this tune. And in the middle of it
Abruptly broke it off, letting her hands
Fall in her lap. She sat there so a moment,
With shoulders drooped, then lifted up a rose,
One great white rose, wide opened like a lotos,
And pressed it to her cheek, and closed her eyes.
