Love poems

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There Is Still Splendour

© Robert Laurence Binyon

O when will life taste clean again? For the air
Is fouled: the world sees, hears; and each day brings
Vile fume that would corrupt eternal things,
Were they corruptible. Harsh trumpets blare

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Lord Nevil's Advice

© Ada Cambridge

"Friend," quoth Lord Nevil, "thou art young
 To face the world, and thou art blind
 To subtle ways of womankind;
The meshes thou wilt fall among.

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Lament

© Katharine Tynan

Suvla, name of bitterness,
  Myrrh and aloes in the mouth,
Salt as Dead Sea water is!
  All that splendour, all that youth,
All that nobleness! Oh, waste
Of the dearest, loveliest!

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XXIV. Calypso

© Giovanni Pascoli



And the blue sea loved him, swept him

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Oh, No More, No More...

© John Ford

Oh, no more, no more, too late
Sighs are spent; the burning tapers
Of a life as chaste as fate,
Pure as are unwritten papers,
Are burned out; no heat, no light
Now remains; ‘tis ever night.

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To His Sister

© William Strode

Loving Sister: every line

Of your last letter was so fine

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Duty Surviving Self-Love, The Only Sure Friend Of Declining Life. A Soliloquy

© Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Unchanged within, to see all changed without,
Is a blank lot and hard to bear, no doubt.
Yet why at others' Wanings should'st thou fret?
Then only might'st thou feel a just regret,

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A Northern Vigil

© Bliss William Carman

HERE by the gray north sea,
In the wintry heart of the wild,
Comes the old dream of thee,
Guendolen, mistress and child.

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The Little Czar

© Henry Lawson

Oh, Great White Czar of Russia, who hid your face and ran,
You’ve flung afar the grandest chance that ever came to man!
You might have been, and could have been—ah, think it to your shame!—
The Czar of all the Russias, in fact as well as name.

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The Muses Threnodie: First Muse

© Henry Adamson

Of Mr George Ruthven the tears and mournings,
Amidst the giddie course of fortune's turnings,
Upon his dear friend's death, Mr John Gall,
Where his rare ornaments bear a part, and wretched Gabions all.

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The Gift

© Sara Teasdale

What can I give you, my lord, my lover,
You who have given the world to me,
Showed me the light and the joy that cover
The wild sweet earth and the restless sea?

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Baby

© Harry Graham


Baby in the cauldron fell, --
  See the grief on Mother's brow;
Mother loved her darling well, --
  Darling's quite hard-boiled by now.

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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: CX

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

THE OASIS OF SIDI KHALED
How the earth burns! Each pebble underfoot
Is as a living thing with power to wound.
The white sand quivers, and the footfall mute

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On A Scene In Tuscany

© Richard Monckton Milnes

What good were it to dim the pleasure--glow,
That lights thy cheek, fair Girl, in scenes like these,
By shameful facts, and piteous histories?
While we enjoy, what matters what we know?

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Joy Of My Life While Left Me Here!

© Henry Vaughan

Joy of my life while left me here!

  And still my love!

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When I Loved You

© Thomas Moore

When I loved you, I can't but allow
I had many an exquisite minute;
But the scorn that I feel for you now
Hath even more luxury in it!

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To Cordelia

© Mark Akenside

JULY, 1740.

From pompous life's dull masquerade,

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Lamia Unveiled

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

HER step is soft as a fay's footfall,
And her eyes are wonderful founts of blue;
But I've seen that small foot spurning hearts,
And the soul that burns so strangely through
Those orbs of blue,
O! is't a human soul at all?

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A Reed Shaken In The Wind

© Madison Julius Cawein

  To say to hope,--Take all from me,
  And grant me naught:
  The rose, the song, the melody,
  The word, the thought:
  Then all my life bid me be slave,--
  Is all I crave.

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Italy : 9. The Alps

© Samuel Rogers

Who first beholds those everlasting clouds,
Seed-time and harvest, morning, noon and night,
Still where they were, steadfast, immovable;
Those mighty hills, so shadowy, so sublime,