Love poems
/ page 477 of 1285 /
The Statue Over The Cathedral Door. (From The German Of Julius Mosen)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Forms of saints and kings are standing
The cathedral door above;
Yet I saw but one among them
Who hath soothed my soul with love.
Birthday Verses
© Thomas Hood
Good morrow to the golden morning,
Good morrow to the world's delight
I've come to bless thy life's beginning,
Since it makes my own so bright!
Unfortunate
© Julia A Moore
Fold her hands upon her breast,
And let her sweetly sleep.
She has found a perfect rest,
Beneath her winding sheet.
The Wheels Of The System
© George Essex Evans
Where is God, whilst all around us sounds the jarring of the wheels,
When the cry of human anguish starwards thro His glory steals?
There is neither hope nor pity underneath the moving wheels.
Woe to him who slips or falters whilst the wheels are moving on!
Woe to him who stays to breathe him when the goal is nearly won!
There they lieand lie for everover whom the wheels have gone!
In Lesbiam Cat. Ep. 76.
© Richard Lovelace
Huc est mens deducta tua, mea Lesbia, culpa,
Atque ita se officio perdidit ipsa suo.
Ut jam nec bene velle queam tibi, si optima sias:
Nec desistere amare, omnia si facias.
Picture Of A Young Lady
© William Lisle Bowles
When I was sitting, sad, and all alone,
Remembering youth and love for ever fled,
The Christmas Homes Of England
© Caroline Hayward
The Christmas homes of England!
How far-famed and how dear;
In bright array they ever stand,
That glad day of the year;
Pharsalia - Book IX: Cato
© Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
Such were the words he spake; and soon the fleet
Had dared the angry deep: but Cato's voice
While praising, calmed the youthful chieftain's rage.
The Pastime of Pleasure: Of dysposycyon the II. parte of rethoryke - (til line 2240)
© Stephen Hawes
Amoure.
2136 Alas madame / now the bryght lodes sterre
2137 Of my true herte / where euer I go or ryde
2138 Thoughe that my body / be frome you aferr
2139 Yet my herte onely / shall with you abyde
2140 Whan than you lyste / ye maye for me prouyde
The Blind Heart
© Arthur Symons
Be still, O hunger of heart, and let pity speak:
Her soul is a wandering bird, and its wings are weak,
Pier heart is a little flame, it pants at a sigh:
blind and pitiless heart, it is love going by.
Martha
© Robert Laurence Binyon
A woman sat, with roses red
Upon her lap before her spread,
On that high bridge whose parapet
Wide over turbulent Thames is set,
June Night
© Sara Teasdale
OH Earth, you are too dear to-night,
How can I sleep while all around
Floats rainy fragrance and the far
Deep voice of the ocean that talks to the ground?
Wasteland Of Solitude
© Faiz Ahmed Faiz
In the wasteland of solitude, my love, quiver
shadows of your voice, illusions of your lips.
In the wasteland of solitude, from the dusts of parting
Sprout jasmines and roses of your presence
Verses Found in Bothwell's Pocket-book
© Sir Walter Scott
Thy hue, dear pledge, is pure and bright
As in that well-remember'd night
Remembrance
© Friedrich Hölderlin
The northeast blows,
my favorite among winds,
since it promises fiery spirit
and a good voyage to mariners.
Old-Fashioned Folks
© Edgar Albert Guest
OLD-FASHIONED folks! God bless 'em all!
The fathers an' the mothers,
The Empty Glass
© Henry Lawson
THERE ARE three lank bards in a borrowed room
Ah! The number is one too few
