Love poems
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The Battle Of The Nile
© William Lisle Bowles
Shout! for the Lord hath triumphed gloriously!
Upon the shores of that renowned land,
The Mermaid
© Per Daniel Amadeus Atterbom
Leaving the sea, the pale moon lights the strand.
Tracing old runes, a youth inscribes the sand.
And by the rune-ring waits a woman fair,
Down to her feet extends her dripping hair.
Fragments from "The Mysterious Key And What It Opened"
© Louisa May Alcott
Love comes to all soon or late,
And maketh gay or sad;
For every bird will find its mate,
And every lass a lad,
The Hillside Cot
© William Ellery Channing
And here the hermit sat, and told his beads,
And stroked his flowing locks, red as the fire,
Her Portrait
© Francis Thompson
Oh, but the heavenly grammar did I hold
Of that high speech which angels' tongues turn gold!
The Magnetic Lady To Her Patient
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
'Sleep, sleep on! forget thy pain;
My hand is on thy brow,
My spirit on thy brain;
To The Spade Of A Friend (An Agriculturist)
© William Wordsworth
SPADE! with which Wilkinson hath tilled his lands,
And shaped these pleasant walks by Emont's side,
Thou art a tool of honour in my hands;
I press thee, through the yielding soil, with pride.
Occasioned By The Battle Of Waterloo February 1816
© William Wordsworth
INTREPID sons of Albion! not by you
Is life despised; ah no, the spacious earth
Henry And Emma. A Poem.
© Matthew Prior
Where beauteous Isis and her husband Thame
With mingled waves for ever flow the same,
In times of yore an ancient baron lived,
Great gifts bestowed, and great respect received.
Sonnet XXXVII.
© Charlotte Turner Smith
SENT TO THE HON. MRS. O'NEILL, WITH
PAINTED FLOWERS.
The poet's fancy takes from Flora's realm
Her buds and leaves to dress fictitious powers,
Sonnets LVI:LVII: LVIII: True Woman
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
I. HERSELF
To be a sweetness more desired than Spring;
The Distant Drum
© Henry Lawson
Republicans! the time is coming!
Listen to the distant drumming!
Hearken to the whispers humming
In the troubled atmosphere.
Otho
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Thou wert not, Cassius, and thou couldst not be,
Last of the Romans, though thy memory claim
From Brutus his own glory--and on thee
"Will Sail Tomorrow."
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
THE good ship lies in the crowded dock,
Fair as a statue, firm as a rock:
Her tall masts piercing the still blue air,
Her funnel glittering white and bare,
My Comrade
© Edwin Markham
I NEVER build a song by night or day,
Of breaking ocean or of blowing whin,
But in some wondrous unexpected way,
Like light upon a road, my Love comes in.
William Henry Groom Vale`
© George Essex Evans
For never shall oblivion slight
The hearts that fight the Peoples fight.
Much less, when, thro a life of stress,
One voice gainst countless odds has stood,
And won, in pain and bitterness,
The Peoples good.
Paracelsus: Part II: Paracelsus Attains
© Robert Browning
Ay, my brave chronicler, and this same hour
As well as any: now, let my time be!
