Love poems
/ page 591 of 1285 /
It was you, Atthis, who said
© Sappho
It was you, Atthis, who said
"Sappho, if you will not get
up and let us look at you
I shall never love you again!
486. SongInconstancy in love
© Robert Burns
LET not Woman eer complain
Of inconstancy in love;
Let not Woman eer complain
Fickle Man is apt to rove:
Olney Hymn 49: True Pleasures
© William Cowper
Lord, my soul with pleasure springs
When Jesu's name I hear:
399. SongOpen the door to me, oh
© Robert Burns
OH, open the door, some pity to shew,
Oh, open the door to me, oh,
Tho thou hast been false, Ill ever prove true,
Oh, open the door to me, oh.
91. The Vision
© Robert Burns
And wear thou thisshe solemn said,
And bound the holly round my head:
The polishd leaves and berries red
Did rustling play;
And, like a passing thought, she fled
In light away. [To Mrs. Stewart of Stair Burns presented a manuscript copy of the Vision. That copy embraces about twenty stanzas at the end of Duan First, which he cancelled when he came to print the price in his Kilmarnock volume. Seven of these he restored in printing his second edition, as noted on p. 174. The following are the verses which he left unpublished.]
In The Beginning
© Harriet Monroe
WHEN sunshine met the wave,
Then love was born;
Then Venus rose to save
A world forlorn.
362. SongThou Gloomy December
© Robert Burns
ANCE mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December!
Ance mair I hail thee wi sorrow and care;
Sad was the parting thou makes me remember
Parting wi Nancy, oh, neer to meet mair!
Nothing Unusual
© Edgar Albert Guest
They lived together thirty years,
I Through storm and sunshine, weal and woe;
The Dawning
© Henry Vaughan
Ah! what time wilt Thou come? when shall that cry,
"The bridegroom's coming," fill the sky?
Old-Fashioned Letters
© Edgar Albert Guest
Old-fashioned letters! How good they were!
And nobody writes them now;
533. SongForlorn, my love, no comfort here
© Robert Burns
FORLORN, my Love, no comfort near,
Far, far from thee, I wander here;
Far, far from thee, the fate severe,
At which I most repine, Love.
192. SongThe Bonie Lass of Albany
© Robert Burns
MY 1 heart is wae, and unco wae,
To think upon the raging sea,
That roars between her gardens green
An the bonie Lass of Albany.
110. Epistle to a Young Friend
© Robert Burns
May, 1786.I LANG hae thought, my youthfu friend,
A something to have sent you,
Tho it should serve nae ither end
Than just a kind memento:
Finality
© Charles Harpur
A HEAVY and desolate sense of life
Is all the Past makes mineand still
A cold contempt of Fortunes strife,
Despite the dread
Of want of bread,
Numbs, clogs like ice, my weary will.
293. The Whistle: A Ballad
© Robert Burns
I SING of a Whistle, a Whistle of worth,
I sing of a Whistle, the pride of the North.
Was brought to the court of our good Scottish King,
And long with this Whistle all Scotland shall ring.
Our Martrys
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
I AM sitting alone and weary,
By the hearth of my darkened room,
And the low wind's miserere,
Makes sadder the midnight gloom.
54. Man was made to Mourn: A Dirge
© Robert Burns
WHEN chill Novembers surly blast
Made fields and forests bare,
One evning, as I wanderd forth
Along the banks of Ayr,
The Bond.
© Robert Crawford
Love me for Love's sake till the dream is done,
And when we waken let us part for aye!
No bond but this; it is the better way,
For life spun so may easy be unspun,
Jacqueline
© Samuel Rogers
'Twas Autumn; thro' Provence had ceased
The vintage, and the vintage-feast.
The sun had set behind the hill,
The moon was up, and all was still,
