Love poems
/ page 50 of 1285 /
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XLIII
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XLI
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I thank all who have loved me in their hearts,With thanks and love from mine
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XL
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Oh, yes! they love through all this world of ours!I will not gainsay love, called love forsooth:I have heard love talked in my early youth,And since, not so long back but that the flowersThen gathered, smell still
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XIV
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
If thou must love me, let it be for noughtExcept for love's sake only
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XIII
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
And wilt thou have me fashion into speechThe love I bear thee, finding words enough,And hold the torch out, while the winds are rough,Between our faces, to cast light on each?-I drop it at thy feet
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XII
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Indeed this very love which is my boast,And which, when rising up from breast to brow,Doth crown me with a ruby large enowTo draw men's eyes and prove the inner cost,-This love even, all my worth, to the uttermost,I should not love withal, unless that thouHadst set me an example, shown me how,When first thine earnest eyes with mine were crossed,And love called love
Sonnets from the Portuguese: XI
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
And therefore if to love can be desert,I am not all unworthy
Sonnets from the Portuguese: X
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeedAnd worthy of acceptation
Sonnets from the Portuguese: VII
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
The face of all the world is changed, I think,Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soulMove still, oh, still, beside me, as they stoleBetwixt me and the dreadful outer brinkOf obvious death, where I, who thought to sink,Was caught up into love, and taught the wholeOf life in a new rhythm
Sonnets from the Portuguese: IX
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Can it be right to give what I can give?To let thee sit beneath the fall of tearsAs salt as mine, and hear the sighing yearsRe-sighing on my lips renunciativeThrough those infrequent smiles which fail to liveFor all thy adjurations? O my fears,That this can scarce be right! We are not peersSo to be lovers; and I own, and grieve,That givers of such gifts as mine are, mustBe counted with the ungenerous
Sonnets from the Portuguese 43: How do I Love thee?
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
Doctor Fell
© Brown Tom
Doctor FellI do not love thee, Doctor Fell.The reason why, I cannot tell;But this I know, and know full well,I do not love thee, Doctor Fell.
Opifex
© Brown Thomas Edward
As I was carving images from clouds, And tinting them with soft ethereal dyes Pressed from the pulp of dreams, one comes, and cries:--"Forbear!" and all my heaven with gloom enshrouds.
My Garden
© Brown Thomas Edward
A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot! Rose plot, Fringed pool,Ferned grot-- The veriest school Of peace; and yet the foolContends that God is not--Not God! in gardens! when the eve is cool? Nay, but I have a sign; 'Tis very sure God walks in mine
Six Years Later
© Joseph Brodsky
So long had life together been that nowthe second of January fell againon Tuesday, making her astonished browlift like a windshield wiper in the rain, so that her misty sadness cleared, and showed a cloudless distance waiting up the road
We sat entwined an hour or two together
© Christopher John Brennan
We sat entwined an hour or two together(how long I know not) underneath pine-treesthat rustled ever in the soft spring weatherstirr'd by the sole suggestion of the breeze:
Sweet silence after bells
© Christopher John Brennan
Sweet silence after bells!deep in the enamour'd earsoft incantation dwells.
