Love poems
/ page 512 of 1285 /
Love Song
© Aldous Huxley
A happy infant, daubed to the eyes in juice
Of peaches that flush bloody at the core,
Naked you bask upon a south-sea shore,
While o'er your tumbling bosom the hair floats loose.
Sonnet 38: The Children of the Night
© Edwin Arlington Robinson
Oh, brother men, if you have eyes at all,
Look at a branch, a bird, a child, a rose,
Or anything God ever made that grows,
Nor let the smallest vision of it slip,
Till you may read, as on Belshazzars wall,
The glory of eternal partnership.
The Cambridge Churchyard
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Our ancient church! its lowly tower,
Beneath the loftier spire,
To the Spirit of Music
© Henry Kendall
How sweet is wandering where the west
Is full of thee, what time the morn
Looks from his halls of rosy rest
Across green miles of gleaming corn!
Wreath For A Bridal
© Sylvia Plath
What though green leaves only witness
Such pact as is made once only; what matter
That owl voice sole yes, while cows utter
Low moos of approve; let sun surpliced in brightness
Stand stock still to laud these mated ones
Whose stark act all coming double luck joins.
Sonnet Addressed To William Hayley, Esq.
© William Cowper
Hayley, thy tenderness fraternal shown
In our first interview, delightful guest!
To Mary and me for her dear sake distressed,
Such as it is has made my heart thy own,
When Some Day
© Hovhannes Toumanian
Sweet comrade, when you come some day
To gaze upon my tomb,
And scattered all around it see
Bright flowers in freshest bloom,
Woman On The Field Of Battle
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Where hath not a woman stood,
Strong in affection's might? a reed, upborne
By an o'er mastering current!
Esther, A Sonnet Sequence: XVIII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Alas, poor Queen of Beauty! In my heart
I could weep for you and your sad graceless doom.
You stand at my life's threshold in the part
Of king's chief jester in the ante--room,
The Angel In The House. Book I. Canto VIII.
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
V The Praise of Love
Spirit of Knowledge, grant me this:
A simple heart and subtle wit
To praise the thing whose praise it is
That all which can be praised is it.
Translation Of A Latin Poem
© William Lisle Bowles
BY THE REV. NEWTON OGLE, DEAN OF MANCHESTER.
Oh thou, that prattling on thy pebbled way
Smells
© Christopher Morley
WHY is it that the poet tells
So little of the sense of smell?
These are the odors I love well:
Book Of Suleika - The Reunion
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
CAN it be! of stars the star,
Do I press thee to my heart?
We Go No More To The Forest
© Mary Colborne-Veel
WE go no more to the forest,
The rimus are all cut down.
Thought's Garden.
© Robert Crawford
I have within Thought's garden sat
And played with this sweet flower and that,
And touched my lute till each soft string
Was tuned to Love's remembering.
Restraint
© Madison Julius Cawein
Dear heart and love! what happiness to sit
And watch the firelight's varying shade and shine
Self-Study
© James Russell Lowell
A presence both by night and day,
That made my life seem just begun,
Yet scarce a presence, rather say
The warning aureole of one.
On The Conversion Of A Sister
© George Moses Horton
'Tis the voice of my sister at home,
Resign'd to the treasures above,
Inviting the strangers to come,
And feast at the banquet of love.
