Love poems

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Sporadic Fiction

© Franklin Pierce Adams

"Because--and yet I ought not say
The wherefore of my sudden whim."
Here Archibald looked at Eusta-
Cia, and Eustacia looked at him.

Ireland

© George Meredith

Fire in her ashes Ireland feels

And in her veins a glow of heat.

Safe At Home

© Edgar Albert Guest

Let the old fire blaze

An' the youngsters shout

To A Young Lady, With A Poem On The French Revolution

© Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Much on my early youth I love to dwell,
Ere yet I bade that friendly dome farewell,
Where first, beneath the echoing cloisters, pale,
I heard of guilt and wondered at the tale!

Hymn To The Grace

© Robert Herrick

When I love, as some have told

Love I shall, when I am old,

Spring In Canada

© William Wilfred Campbell

SEASON of life's renewal, love's rebirth,
And all hope's young espousals; in your dream,
I feel once more the ancient stirrings of Earth.

The Cloak

© Ezra Pound

Thou keep'st thy rose-leaf
Till the rose-time will be over,
Think'st thou that Death will kiss thee?
Think'st thou that the Dark House
Will find thee such a lover
As I? Will the new roses miss thee?

The Death Of Day

© Richard Monckton Milnes

Full of hours, the Day is falling
Where its brethren lie,--
A stern and royal voice is calling
The beautiful to die.

The Garden Of Dreams

© Bliss William Carman

MY heart is a garden of dreams
Where you walk when day is done,
Fair as the royal flowers,
Calm as the lingering sun.

Sugar Weather

© Peter McArthur

WHEN snow-balls on the horses' hoofs

And the wind from the south blows warm,

To Mr. Addison on His Tragedy of Cato

© Thomas Tickell

Too long hath love engross'd Britannia's stage,

And sunk to softness all our tragic rage:

The Helot

© Isabella Valancy Crawford

Low the sun beat on the land,
Red on vine and plain and wood;
With the wine-cup in his hand,
Vast the Helot herdsman stood.

Madrigal In Time Of War

Beside the rivers of the midnight town
Where four-foot couples love and paupers drown,
Shots of quick hell we took, our final kiss,
The great and swinging bridge a bower for this.

Prelude

(From _The Shepherd's Hunting_)

Seest thou not, in clearest days,

Long, long ago in the woods of Gortnamona,
I thought the birds were singing in the blackthorn tree;
But oh, it was my heart that was ringing, ringing, ringing,
With the joy that you were bringing, oh my love, to me

Orpheus

© Emma Lazarus

ORPHEUS.
LAUGHTER and dance, and sounds of harp and lyre,
Piping of flutes, singing of festal songs,
Ribbons of flame from flaunting torches, dulled

The Passionate Pilgrim

Her lips to mine how often hath she joined,
Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing!
How many tales to please me bath she coined,
Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing!
Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings,
Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jestings.