Love poems
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Brussels
© Arthur Rimbaud
Boulevard du Régent
July Flowerbeds of amaranths right up to
The pleasant palace of Jupiter. -
I know it is Thou, who is this place,
Minglest thine almost Saharan Blue !
Waste
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
HOW many a budding plant is born to fade!
How many a May bloom wilt with quick decay!
Ofttimes the ruddiest rose holds briefest sway,
While heart and sense are evermore betrayed
The Dead Lover
© James Whitcomb Riley
Time is so long when a man is dead!
Some one sews; and the room is made
Very clean; and the light is shed
Soft through the window-shade.
Tribute To The Memory Of The Rev. Sister The Nativity, Foundress Of The Convent Of Villa Maria
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Oh, Villa Maria, thrice favored spot,
Unclouded sunshine is still thy lot
Since first, neath thy mortal old,
The spouses of Christworking out Gods will,
Meekly entered, their mission high to fill
Mid the little ones of His fold.
An Autumn Sonnet
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
These little presents of your tenderness,
Although less grand a gift than was your love,
Are dear to me in this October stress
Of wind and war and whirling leaves above.
The Assimilation Of The Gypsies
© Larry Levis
In the background, a few shacks & overturned carts
And a gray sky holding the singular pallor of Lent.
And here the crowd of onlookers, though a few of them
Must be intimate with the victim,
Old Letters
© Norman Rowland Gale
Last night some yellow letters fell
From out a scrip I found by chance;
The Sundew
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
A LITTLE marsh-plant, yellow green,
And pricked at lip with tender red.
Tread close, and either way you tread
Some faint black water jets between
Lest you should bruise the curious head.
In A Cafe
© Francis Ledwidge
Kiss the maid and pass her round,
Lips like hers were made for many.
Our loves are far from us to-night,
But these red lips are sweet as any.
A Requiem
© Ernest Christopher Dowson
Neobule, being tired,
Far too tired to laugh or weep,
From the hours, rosy and gray,
Hid her golden face away.
Neobule, fain of sleep,
Slept at last as she desired!
To The Right Honourable The Lady Elizabeth Brownlow,
© Mary Barber
Who can the hardest Task refuse,
When lovely Lady Betty sues?
If her Requests Resistance find,
It must be from the Deaf and Blind.
The Song
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
MY soul, lost in the music's mist,
Roamed, rapt, 'neath skies of amethyst,
The Prisoner
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
All day I lie beneath the great pine tree,
Whose perfumed branches wave and shadow me.
The Broken Pitcher
© William Edmondstoune Aytoun
It was a Moorish maiden was sitting by a well,
And what the maiden thought of, I cannot, cannot, tell,
When by there rode a valiant knight from the town of Oviedo,
Alphonso Guzman was he hight, the Count of Tololedo.
Musings
© Madison Julius Cawein
All who have toiled for Art, who've won or lost,
Sat equal priests at her high Pentecost;
Only the chrism and sacrament of flame,
Anointing all, inspired not all the same.
