Love poems
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The Sea Hath Its Pearls. (From The German Of Heinrich Heine)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
The sea hath its pearls,
The heaven hath its stars;
But my heart, my heart,
My heart hath its love.
King Cophetua The First
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
Said Jove within himself one day,
I'll make me a mistress out of clay!
The Huron Chiefs Daughter
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
The dusky warriors stood in groups around the funeral pyre,
The scowl upon their knotted brows betrayed their vengeful ire.
It needed not the cords, the stake, the rites so stern and rude,
To tell it was to be a scene of cruelty and blood.
Until The Dawn
© Edith Nesbit
WHEN head and hands and heart alike are weary;
When Hope with folded wings sinks out of sight;
When all thy striving fails to disentangle
From out wrong's skein the golden thread of right;
When all thy knowledge seems a marsh-light's glimmer,
That only shows the blackness of the night;
The Wonder-Working Magician - Act II
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
CYPRIAN. Ever wrangling in this way,
How ye both my patience try!
Why can he not go? Say why?
Shelleys Pyre
© Robert Laurence Binyon
The Spirit of Earth, robed in green;
The Spirit of Air, robed in blue;
The Spirit of Water, robed in silver;
The Spirit of Fire, robed in red.
Each steps forward in turn.
To Memory
© Thomas Sturge Moore
Thou dream of dreams, which most we can retrieve
And least forget, for thee dramatic truth
Drapes in fresh silks the tragedy of youth.
Yet as they act, our eyes, once blind, perceive
Much those performers are too fond to note
Till phantom sobs catch in a shrivelled throat.
The Castle Of Indolence
© James Thomson
The castle hight of Indolence,
And its false luxury;
Where for a little time, alas!
We lived right jollily.
The Bride
© Katharine Tynan
WEAVE me no wreath of orange blossom,
No bridal white shall me adorn;
I wear a red rose in my bosom;
To-morrow I shall wear the thorn.
Not Even Love
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Dear child, thou know'st, I blame not thee;
Thou too, I know, hast shared the smart.
Neither did wrong; 'twas only she,
Nature, that moulded us apart.
Metamorphoses: Book The Eighth
© Ovid
The End of the Eighth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
The Gentle Water Bird (for Mary Gilmore)
© John Shaw Neilson
In the far days, when every day was long,
Fear was upon me and the fear was strong,
Ere I had learned the recompense of song.
Riches I hold in light esteem
© Emily Jane Brontë
Riches I hold in light esteem
And Love I laugh to scorn
And lust of Fame was but a dream
That vanished with the morn
Stain Not The Sky
© Henry Van Dyke
Ye gods of battle, lords of fear,
Who work your iron will as well
The Flower of Love
© Thomas Love Peacock
'Tis said the rose is Love's own flower,
Its blush so bright, its thorns so many;
The Dead Return
© Edgar Albert Guest
THE dead return. I know they do;
The glad smile may have passed from view,
