Love poems
/ page 561 of 1285 /Seventh Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
Go not away, thou weary soul:
Heaven has in store a precious dole
Here on Bethsaida's cold and darksome height,
Where over rocks and sands arise
Proud Sirion in the northern skies,
And Tabor's lonely peak, 'twixt thee and noonday light.
Autumn
© Samuel Johnson
Alas! with swift and silent pace,
Impatient time rolls on the year;
The Seasons change, and Nature's face
Now sweetly smiles, now frowns severe.
For Whittiers Seventieth Birthday
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
I BELIEVE that the copies of verses I've spun,
Like Scheherezade's tales, are a thousand and one;
You remember the story,--those mornings in bed,--
'T was the turn of a copper,--a tale or a head.
Gemini And Virgo
© Charles Stuart Calverley
Some vast amount of years ago,
Ere all my youth had vanished from me,
A boy it was my lot to know,
Whom his familiar friends called Tommy.
A Girls' Grave
© Patrick Edward Quinn
What story is here of broken love,
What idyllic sad romance,
What arrow fretted the silken dove
That met with such grim mischance?
To the memory of my dear Daughter in Law, Mrs. Mercy Bradstreet, who deceased Sept. 6. 1669. in the
© Anne Bradstreet
And live I still to see Relations gone,
And yet survive to sound this wailing tone;
When You Are Old
© William Ernest Henley
Dear Heart, it shall be so. Under the sway
Of death the pasts enormous disarray
Lies hushed and dark. Yet though there come no sign,
Live on well pleased: immortal and divine
Love shall still tend you, as Gods angels may,
When you are old.
The Brother Of Mercy
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Piero Luca, known of all the town
As the gray porter by the Pitti wall
Where the noon shadows of the gardens fall,
Sick and in dolor, waited to lay down
His last sad burden, and beside his mat
The barefoot monk of La Certosa sat.
The Golden Legend: V. A Covered Bridge At Lucerne
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
_Prince Henry_ The grim musician
Leads all men through the mazes of that dance,
To different sounds in different measures moving;
Sometimes he plays a lute, sometimes a drum,
To tempt or terrify.
To Lady Eleanor Butler and the Honourable Miss Ponsonby,
© William Wordsworth
A stream to mingle with your favorite Dee
Along the Vale of Meditation flows;
So styled by those fierce Britons, pleased to see
In Nature's face the expression of repose,
There Is A Happy Land
© Andrew Young
There is a happy land, far, far away,
Where saints in glory stand, bright, bright as day.
Oh, how they sweetly sing, worthy is our Savior King,
Loud let His praises ring, praise, praise for aye.
Homage To Sextus Propertius - III
© Ezra Pound
Midnight, and a letter comes to me from our mistress:
Telling me to come to Tibur:
At once!!
'Bright tips reach up from twin towers,
'Anienan spring water falls into flat-spread pools.'
The Streams
© John Kenyon
Two streams there were, two streams from separate founts,
Both beautiful to see, and onemost holy;
April Song
© Sara Teasdale
Willow in your April gown
Delicate and gleaming,
Do you mind in years gone by
All my dreaming?
A Hidden Life
© George MacDonald
Ah God! when Beauty passes by the door,
Although she ne'er came in, the house grows bare.
Shut, shut the door; there's nothing in the house.
Why seems it always that it should be ours?
A secret lies behind which Thou dost know,
And I can partly guess.
The New Recruit
© Katharine Tynan
The lads were once my comrades,
They stay at home content.
And now's the time of cricket,
They count the days well spent.
The Broom, the Shovel, the Poker and the Tongs
© Edward Lear
The Broom and the Shovel, the Poker and Tongs,
They all took a drive in the Park,
Quieta Ne Movete II
© Edith Nesbit
IF one should wake one's frozen faith
In sunlight of her radiant eyes,
On A Great Warrior
© Henry Abbey
When all the sky was wild and dark,
When every heart was wrung with fear,