Love poems
/ page 573 of 1285 /
The Husband Of To-Day
© Edith Nesbit
EYES caught by beauty, fancy by eyes caught;
Sweet possibilities, question, and wonder--
Sans Souci
© William Schwenck Gilbert
I cannot tell what this love may be
That cometh to all but not to me.
The Question to Lisetta
© Matthew Prior
WHAT nymph should I admire or trust,
But Chloe beauteous, Chloe just?
What nymph should I desire to see,
But her who leaves the plain for me?
To a Child of Quality, Five Years Old, 1704. The Author then Forty
© Matthew Prior
LORDS, knights, and squires, the numerous band
That wear the fair Miss Mary's fetters,
Were summoned by her high command
To show their passions by their letters.
Against A Sickness: To The Female Double Principle God
© Alan Dugan
She said: Im god and all
of this and that world and love
A Letter to Lady Margaret Cavendish Holles-Harley, when a Child
© Matthew Prior
MY noble, lovely, little Peggy,
Let this my First Epistle beg ye,
At dawn of morn, and close of even,
To lift your heart and hands to Heaven.
In double duty say your prayer:
Our Father first, then Notre Pere.
Love for a Hand
© Karl Shapiro
But often when too steep her dream descends,
Perhaps to the grotto where her father bends
To pick her up, the husband wakes as though
He had forgotten something in the house.
Motionless he eyes the room that glows
With the little animals of light that prowl
An Ode
© Matthew Prior
The merchant, to secure his treasure,
Conveys it in a borrowed name:
Euphelia serves to grace my measure;
But Cloe is my real flame.
Jinny the Just
© Matthew Prior
Releas'd from the noise of the butcher and baker
Who, my old friends be thanked, did seldom forsake her,
And from the soft duns of my landlord the Quaker,
Fragment IV
© James Macpherson
CRIMORA.
Connal, I saw his sails like grey mist
on the sable wave. They came to land.
Connnal, many are the warriors of
Dargo!
Song
© Matthew Prior
How old may Phyllis be, you ask,
Whose beauty thus all hearts engages?
To answer is no easy task;
For she has really two ages.
The Merchant, To Secure His Treasure
© Matthew Prior
The merchant, to secure his treasure,
Conveys it in a borrowed name:
Euphelia serves to grace my measure,
But Cloe is my real flame.
Death, that struck when I was most confiding
© Emily Jane Brontë
Death! that struck when I was most confiding.
In my certain faith of joy to be-
Strike again, Time's withered branch dividing
From the fresh root of Eternity!
Wilt Thou Take Me For Thy Slave?
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
Wilt thou take me for thy slave,
With my folly and my love?
Wilt thou take me for the bondsman of thy pride?
Thou who dearer art to me than all the world beside;
For I love thee as no other man can love.
An Old Sweetheart Of Mine
© James Whitcomb Riley
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone,
And muses on the faces of the friends that he has known,
So I turn the leaves of Fancy, till in shadowy design
I find the smiling features of an old sweetheart of mine.
My Pretty Child
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Mo páistin deas, I did not know
How cold the winter's blast could blow
Into her heart, with what despair
Earth drew her bloom and blossom fair,
How lone a man might come and go
When you were herehow could I know?
The Snow-Messengers
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THE pine-trees lift their dark bewildered eyes--
Or so I deem--up to the clouded skies;
No breeze, no faintest breeze, is heard to blow:
In wizard silence falls the windless snow.
A Better Answer
© Matthew Prior
Dear Chloe, how blubbered is that pretty face;
Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurled!
Prithee quit this caprice, and (as old Falstaff says)
Let us e'en talk a little like folks of this world.
Lines Written in 1799.
© Amelia Opie
Now, pleased I mark the painter's skilful line,
And now, rejoice the skill I mark is thine:
And while I prize the gift by thee bestow'd,
My heart proclaims, I'm of the giver proud.
Thus pride and friendship war with equal strife,
And now the friend exults, and now the wife.
