Love poems
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First Footsteps
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
A little way, more soft and sweet
Than fields aflower with May,
A babe's feet, venturing, scarce complete
A little way.
Pan in Vermont
© Rudyard Kipling
Its forty in the shade to-day, the spouting eaves declare;
The boulders nose above the drift, the southern slopes are bare;
Hub-deep in slush Apollos car swings north along the Zod-
iac. Good luck, the Spring is back, and Pan is on the road!
The Chilterns
© Rupert Brooke
Your hands, my dear, adorable,
Your lips of tenderness
-- Oh, I've loved you faithfully and well,
Three years, or a bit less.
It wasn't a success.
Triste, Triste
© Gwen Harwood
In the space between love and sleep
when heart mourns in its prison
eyes against shoulder keep
their blood-black curtains tight.
Body rolls back like a stone, and risen
spirit walks to Easter light;
A Hymn to Contentment
© Thomas Parnell
Lovely, lasting peace, appear!
This world itself, if thou art here,
Is once again with Eden blest,
And man contains it in his breast.
IV. The Dead
© Rupert Brooke
There are waters blown by changing winds to laughter
And lit by the rich skies, all day. And after,
Frost, with a gesture, stays the waves that dance
And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white
Unbroken glory, a gathered radiance,
A width, a shining peace, under the night.
Blue Evening
© Rupert Brooke
My restless blood now lies a-quiver,
Knowing that always, exquisitely,
This April twilight on the river
Stirs anguish in the heart of me.
The Ransom
© Charles Baudelaire
Man, with which to pay his ransom,
has two fields of deep rich earth,
which he must dig and bring to birth,
with the iron blade of reason.
Fragments - Lines 1327 - 1334
© Theognis of Megara
My boy, as long as your cheeks and chin are smooth, I shall never
Cease to praise you, not even if I am fated to die.
Libido
© Rupert Brooke
Love wakens love! I felt your hot wrist shiver
And suddenly the mad victory I planned
Flashed real, in your burning bending head. . . .
My conqueror's blood was cool as a deep river
In shadow; and my heart beneath your hand
Quieter than a dead man on a bed.
Day That I Have Loved
© Rupert Brooke
Tenderly, day that I have loved, I close your eyes,
And smooth your quiet brow, and fold your thin dead hands.
The grey veils of the half-light deepen; colour dies.
I bear you, a light burden, to the shrouded sands,
He Wonders Whether to Praise or Blame Her
© Rupert Brooke
I have peace to weigh your worth, now all is over,
But if to praise or blame you, cannot say.
For, who decries the loved, decries the lover;
Yet what man lauds the thing hes thrown away?
Mutability
© Rupert Brooke
Dear, we know only that we sigh, kiss, smile;
Each kiss lasts but the kissing; and grief goes over;
Love has no habitation but the heart.
Poor straws! on the dark flood we catch awhile,
Cling, and are borne into the night apart.
The laugh dies with the lips, `Love' with the lover.
The Door and the Window
© Henry Reed
My love, you are timely come, let me lie by your heart.
For waking in the dark this morning, I woke to that mystery,
Which we can all wake to, at some dark time or another:
Waking to find the room not as I thought it was,
But the window further away, and the door in another direction.
The Funeral of Youth: Threnody
© Rupert Brooke
The Day that Youth had died,
There came to his grave-side,
In decent mourning, from the countrys ends,
Those scatterd friends
Goddess In The Wood, The
© Rupert Brooke
Till a swift terror broke the abrupt hour.
The gold waves purled amidst the green above her;
And a bird sang. With one sharp-taken breath,
By sunlit branches and unshaken flower,
The immortal limbs flashed to the human lover,
And the immortal eyes to look on death.
The Busy Heart
© Rupert Brooke
Now that weve done our best and worst, and parted,
I would fill my mind with thoughts that will not rend.
(O heart, I do not dare go empty-hearted)
Ill think of Love in books, Love without end;
Ode to Memory
© Alfred Tennyson
O strengthen me, englighten me!
I faint in this obscurity,
Thou dewy dawn of memory.
Waikiki
© Rupert Brooke
And I recall, lose, grasp, forget again,
And still remember, a tale I have heard, or known,
An empty tale, of idleness and pain,
Of two that loved -- or did not love -- and one
Whose perplexed heart did evil, foolishly,
A long while since, and by some other sea.
Al Aaraaf: Part 2
© Edgar Allan Poe
"My Angelo! and why of them to be?
A brighter dwelling-place is here for thee-
And greener fields than in yon world above,
And woman's loveliness- and passionate love."
