Love poems
/ page 452 of 1285 /
The years, wherein I never knew
© Madison Julius Cawein
The years, wherein I never knew
Such beauty as is yours,--so fraught
With truth and kindness looking through
Your loveliness,--I count them naught,
O girl, so like a lily wrought!
The years wherein I knew not you.
Bluebeard
© Harry Graham
Yes, I am Bluebeard, and my name
Is one that children cannot stand;
Yet once I used to be so tame
I'd eat out of a person's hand;
So gentle was I wont to be
A Curate might have played with me.
The Old Man's Counsel
© William Cullen Bryant
Long since that white-haired ancient slept--but still,
When the red flower-buds crowd the orchard bough,
And the ruffed grouse is drumming far within
The woods, his venerable form again
Is at my side, his voice is in my ear.
The Rose
© Madison Julius Cawein
So by those words of yours I'm led
To send it you this day you wed.
Look well upon it. You, as I,
Should ask it now, without a sigh,
If love can lie as it lies dead.--
You have forgot.
The Cure
© Rudyard Kipling
To-day? God knows where he may lie-
His Cross of weathered beads above him:
But one not worthy to untie
His shoe-string, prays you read-and love him!
To Guido Cavalcanti
© Dante Alighieri
Guido, I wish that Lapo, you, and I
could board a vessel, by transporter beam,
Sonnet XCV:Who ever desired each other as we do
© Pablo Neruda
Who ever desired each other as we do? Let us look
for the ancient ashes of hearts that burned,
and let our kisses touch there, one by one,
till the flower, disembodied, rises again.
Christmas Tree
© John Frederick Nims
This seablue fir that rode the mountain storm
Is swaddled here in splints of tin to die.
Sofas around in chubby velvet swarm;
Onlooking cabinets glitter with flat eye;
Here lacquer in the branches runs like rain
And resin of treasure starts from every vein.
The Missionary - Canto First
© William Lisle Bowles
Three hundred brandished spears shone to the sky:
We perish, or we leave our country free;
Father, our blood for Chili and for thee!
The mountain-chief essayed his club to wield,
And shook the dust indignant from the shield.
Then spoke:--
To Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Mine eyes were dim with tears unshed;
Yes, I was firm -- thus wert not thou;--
My baffled looks did fear yet dread
The Ranger
© John Greenleaf Whittier
ROBERT RAWLIN!--Frosts were falling
When the ranger's horn was calling
Through the woods to Canada.
Dedication
© Charles Churchill
To Churchill's Sermons.
The manuscript of this unfinished poem was found among the few papers
The Mission Bells of Monteray
© Francis Bret Harte
O BELLS that rang, O bells that sang
Above the martyrs' wilderness,
Italy : 52. A Farewell
© Samuel Rogers
And now farewell to Italy -- perhaps
For ever! Yet, methinks, I could not go,
I could not leave it, were it mine to say,
'Farewell for ever!' Many a courtesy,
The Shepherds Calendar - July (2nd version)
© John Clare
July the month of summers prime
Again resumes her busy time
Scythes tinkle in each grassy dell
Where solitude was wont to dwell
The Orange Tree
© John Shaw Neilson
The young girl stood beside me.
I Saw not what her young eyes could see:
- A light, she said, not of the sky
Lives somewhere in the Orange Tree.
On Finding A Fan
© George Gordon Byron
In one who felt as once he felt
This might, perhaps, have fann'd the flame;
But now his heart no more will melt,
Because that heart is not the same.
