Love poems

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Death & Co.

© Sylvia Plath

Two, of course there are two.
It seems perfectly natural now--
The one who never looks up, whose eyes are lidded
And balled¸ like Blake's.
Who exhibits

Indignation

© Victor Marie Hugo

Thou who loved Juvenal, and filed
His style so sharp to scar imperial brows,
And lent the lustre lightening
The gloom in Dante's murky verse that flows,--

Ode To Liberty

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

Yet, Freedom, yet, thy banner, torn but flying,
Streams like a thunder-storm against the wind.--BYRON.
I.
A glorious people vibrated again

Rose Mary

© Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Of her two fights with the Beryl-stone

Lost the first, but the second won.

The Death Of Adam

© Robert Laurence Binyon

Cedars, that high upon the untrodden slopes
Of Lebanon stretch out their stubborn arms,
Through all the tempests of seven hundred years
Fast in their ancient place, where they look down

Desire

© Matthew Arnold

Thou, who dost dwell alone;
Thou, who dost know thine own;
Thou, to whom all are known,
From the cradle to the grave,--
Save, O, save!

Words

© Madison Julius Cawein

I cannot tell what I would tell thee,
What I would say, what thou shouldst hear:
Words of the soul that should compell thee,
Words of the heart to draw thee near.

The Moon

© Sappho

THE stars about the lovely moon
Fade back and vanish very soon,
When, round and full, her silver face
Swims into sight, and lights all space

The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: CVIII

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

A FOREST IN BOSNIA
Spirit of Trajan! What a world is here,
What remnant of old Europe in this wood,
Of life primaeval rude as in the year

Alas! my journey, rugged and uneven,
Through prickly moors or dusty ways must wind;
But hearing thee, or others of thy kind,
As full of gladness and as free of heaven,
I, with my fate contented, will plod on,
And hope for higher raptures, when life's day is done.

The short Wooing

© Henry King

Like an Oblation set before a Shrine,
Fair One! I offer up this heart of mine.
Whether the Saint accept my Gift or no,
Ile neither fear nor doubt before I know.

Hero And Leander. The Fourth Sestiad

© George Chapman

Now from Leander's place she rose, and found

Her hair and rent robe scatter'd on the ground;

Christ In The Museum

© Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall

BRONZE bells and incense burners, and a flight

Of birds born out of iron, and fine as spray;

To June. Written After An Ungenial May

© Denis Florence MacCarthy

I'll heed no more the poet's lay-
His false-fond song shall charm no more-
My heart henceforth shall but adore
The real, not the misnamed May.

On Some Rose Leaves Brought From The Vale Of Cashmere

Faded and pale their beauty, vanished their early bloom,
Their folded leaves emit alone a sweet though faint perfume,
But, oh! than brightest bud or flower to me are they more dear,
They come from that rose-haunted land, the bright Vale of Cashmere.

The Magic Purse

WHAT is the gold of mortal-kind
To that men find
Deep in the poet's mind!
That magic purse

Ode To The Moon

© Thomas Hood

I
Mother of light! how fairly dost thou go
Over those hoary crests, divinely led!
Art thou that huntress of the silver bow,

Svanhvit's Colloquy

What countless paths wind down, from divers points,
To yonder city gates!--Oh, wilt not thou,
My star, appear to me on one of them?
Whate'er I said,--thou art my worshiped sun.
Then pardon me;--thou art not cold; oh, no!
Too warm, too glowing warm, art thou for me.

Laus Virginitatis

The mirror of men's eyes delights me less,
mirror, than the friend I find in thee;
Thou loves!:, as I love, my loveliness,
Thou givest my beauty back to me.