Love poems
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Flirtation
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Yes, leave my side to flirt with Maude,
To gaze into her eyes,
Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 3. Interlude IV.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
"A pleasant and a winsome tale,"
The Student said, "though somewhat pale
The New Wife and the Old
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Dark the halls, and cold the feast,
Gone the bridemaids, gone the priest.
All is over, all is done,
Twain of yesterday are one!
Blooming girl and manhood gray,
Autumn in the arms of May!
The Secrets Of Divine Love Are To Be Kept
© William Cowper
Sun! stay thy course, this moment stay--
Suspend the o'er flowing tide of day,
Divulge not such a love as mine,
Ah! hide the mystery divine;
Lest man, who deems my glory shame,
Should learn the secret of my flame.
Stranger
© Hristo Botev
Hurry, stranger, quickly come
to your father's home at last,
do a dance before his home,
join the dance the pass across.
The New Eden
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
SCARCE could the parting ocean close,
Seamed by the Mayflowerâs cleaving bow,
When oâer the rugged desert rose
The waves that tracked the Pilgrimâs plough.
Raschi In Prague
© Emma Lazarus
Raschi of Troyes, the Moon of Israel,
The authoritative Talmudist, returned
The Soldier's Funeral
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
The muffled drum rolled on the air,
Warriors, with stately step, were there;
On every arm was the black crape bound,
Every carbine was turned to the ground;
Solemn, the sound of their measured tread,
As silent and slow, they followed the dead.
The Unseen Face
© George MacDonald
"I do beseech thee, God, show me thy face."
"Come up to me in Sinai on the morn!
Memory
© Edgar Albert Guest
I stood and watched him playing,
A little lad of three,
And back to me came straying
The years that used to be;
In him the boy was Maying
Who once belonged to me.
The Staircase With A Hundred Steps
© Benjamin Péret
The blue eagle and the demon of the steppes
in the last cab in Berlin
Epilogue to Agamemnon
© James Thomson
Our bard, to modern epilogue a foe,
Thinks such mean mirth but deadens generous woe;
Dispels in idle air the moral sigh,
And wipes the tender tear from Pity's eye:
An Old Umbrella
© Christopher Pearse Cranch
AN old umbrella in the hall,
Battered and baggy, quaint and queer;
By all the rains of many a year
Bent, stained, and faded that is all.
In Snow-Time
© Anonymous
How should I chose to walk the world with thee,
Mine own beloved? When green grass is stirred
By summer breezes, and each leafy tree
Shelters the nest of many a singing bird?
Of The Nature Of Things: Book III - Part 04 - Folly Of The Fear Of Death
© Lucretius
Therefore death to us
Is nothing, nor concerns us in the least,
