Love poems
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Twilight
© James Montgomery
I love thee, Twilight! as thy shadows roll,
The calm of evening steals upon my soul,
I Cast My Net Into The Sea
© Rabindranath Tagore
In the morning I cast my net into the sea.
I dragged up from the dark abyss things of strange aspect and strange beauty -- some shone like a smile, some glistened like tears, and some were flushed like the cheeks of a bride.
In an Almshouse
© Augusta Davies Webster
They said you were not pretty, owed your charm
to choice of ribbons from your father's shop,
but, as for me, I saw not if you wore
too many ribbons or too few, nor sought
what charms you had beyond that one I knew,
the kind and honest look in your grey eyes.
An Ode In Blessed Memory Of Her Majesty The Empress Anna Ivanovna On The Victory Over The Turks And
© Mikhail Vasilyevich Lomonosov
1
A sudden bliss has seized my mind,
Present And Future
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Look, as a mother bending o'er her boy,
The sleeping boy that in her bosom lies,
Gazes upon him in a trance of joy
With earnest, infinitely tender eyes,
Death and Night
© James Benjamin Kenyon
The bearded grass waves in the summer breeze;
The sunlight sleeps along the distant hills;
On the Friendship Betwixt Two Ladies
© Edmund Waller
Tell me, lovely, loving pair!
Why so kind, and so severe?
Why so careless of our care,
Only to yourselves so dear?
Song
© Samuel Johnson
Not the soft sighs of vernal gales,
The fragrance of the flowery vales,
The murmurs of the crystal rill,
The vocal grove, the verdant hill;
Not all their charms, though all unite,
Can touch my bosom with delight.
Night Litany
© Ezra Pound
Yea the lines hast thou laid unto me
in pleasant places,
And the beauty of this thy Venice
hast thou shown unto me
Until is its loveliness become unto me
a thing of tears.
Hymn XXXII. Lord, now the time returns,
© John Austin
Lord, now the time returns,
For weary man to rest;
To You.
© Arthur Henry Adams
SO you have come at last!
And we nestle, each in each,
As leans the pliant sea in the clean-curved limbs of her lover the beach;
Merged in each other quite,
Modern Beauty
© Arthur Symons
I am the torch, she saith, and what to me
If the moth die of me? I am the flame
Of Beauty, and I burn that all may see
Beauty, and I have neither joy nor shame.
But live with that clear light of perfect fire
Which is to men the death of their desire.
The Quilting
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
DOLLY sits a-quilting by her mother, stitch by stich,
Gracious, how my pulses throb, how my fingers itch,
While I note her dainty waist and her slender hand,
As she matches this and that, she stitches strand by strand.
And I long to tell her Life's a quilt and I'm a patch;
Love will do the stitching if she'll only be my match.
The Forsaken
© Caroline Norton
IT is the music of her native land,--
The airs she used to love in happier days;
The lute is struck by some young gentle hand,
To soothe her spirit with remember'd lays.
II.
Torn In Shreds
© Mirabai
Mine is Gopal, the Mountain-Holder; there is no one else.
On his head he wears the peacock-crown: He alone is my husband.
Father, mother, brother, relative: I have none to call my own.
I've forsaken both God, and the family's honor: what should I do?
Ralph Isham, 1753 And Later
© Eli Siegel
Know you him, O, him,
Who lived in those days?
He wore a gay coat,
And he stepped along, jauntily, jauntily,
By The Seaside : The Lighthouse
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The rocky ledge runs far into the sea,
And on its outer point, some miles away,
The Lighthouse lifts its massive masonry,
A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.
