Love poems
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Cordelia
© William Michael Rossetti
They turn on her and fix their eyes,
But cease not passing inward;--one
Sneering with lips still curled to lies,
Sinuous of body, serpent-wise;
Her footfall creeps, and her looks shun
The very thing on which they dwell.
On A Picture Of The Finding Of Moses By Pharoah's Daughter
© Charles Lamb
This picture does the story express
Of Moses in the bulrushes.
How livelily the painter's hand
By colours makes us understand!
Sleep Did Come Wi The Dew
© William Barnes
O when our zun's a-zinkèn low,
How soft's the light his feäce do drow
In Memoriam : Francis Archibald Douglas
© Lord Alfred Douglas
Dear friend, dear brother, I have owed you this
Since many days, the tribute of a song.
Shall I cheat you who never did a wrong
To any man ? No, therefore though I miss
Lo gens temps de pascor
© Bernard de Ventadorn
Bel Vezer, si no fos
mos enans totz en vos
laissat agra chansos
per mal dels enoyos.
The Imprisoned Innocents
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
ONE morning I said to my wife,
Near the time when the heavens are rife
With the Equinoctial strife,
"Arabella, the weather looks ugly as sin!
Ode On Lord Hay's BirthDay
© James Beattie
A Muse, unskill'd in venal praise,
Unstain'd with flattery's art;
Who loves simplicity of lays
Breathed ardent from the heart;
True Love
© William Barnes
As evenèn aïr, in green-treed Spring,
Do sheäke the new-sprung pa'sley bed,
The Lily
© Albert Durrant Watson
Still to that love I am turning
Though beyond reach of my yearning;
And never the vision shall vanish
Nor time nor eternity banish
That dream so splendid of love and tears
That still transfigures the lonely years.
Nocturne
© Rubén Dario
I want to express my anguish in verses that speak
of my vanished youth, a time of dreams and roses,
and the bitter defloration of my life
by many small cares and one vast aching sorrow.
The Passing Of Cadieux
© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
'Fresh is love in May
When the Spring is yearning,
Life is but a lay,
Love is quick in learning.
The Dying Dragoman
© Mathilde Blind
Again the ring of swinging chimes
Calls all the pious folk to church,
With shining Sunday face, betimes,
Through rustling woods of beech and birch
Song.Thou wert lovely
© Louisa Stuart Costello
Thou wert lovely to my sight,
When in yonder dell I found thee
In thy radiant beauty bright,
Though a desert spread around thee;
Like the heath-bell's purple flower,
Shrinking from a dewy shower.
Mattens
© George Herbert
I cannot ope mine eyes,
But thou art ready there to catch
My morning-soul and sacrifice:
Then we must needs for that day make a match.
Sonnet Of Motherhood VI
© Zora Bernice May Cross
O, let my body be your souls delight,
Your mirror true of Beauty most-esteemed,
That looking on its form your lips breathe low:
This is herself, her soul within my sight.
So read it over as a book you dreamed
In boyhoods fancy many a year ago.
Sonnet LII: O Whether
© Samuel Daniel
At the Author's Going into Italy
O whether (poor forsaken) wilt thou go,
Maenad
© Sylvia Plath
Once I was ordinary:
Sat by my father's bean tree
Eating the fingers of wisdom.
The birds made milk.
When it thundered I hid under a flat stone.
Night Thoughts In Age
© John Hall Wheelock
Light, that out of the west looked back once more
Through lids of cloud, has closed a sleepy eye;
