Love poems
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Sonnet XXXVI
© William Shakespeare
Let me confess that we two must be twain,
Although our undivided loves are one:
So shall those blots that do with me remain
Without thy help by me be borne alone.
Sonnet XXXV
© William Shakespeare
No more be grieved at that which thou hast done:
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud;
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
Sonnet XXXIX
© William Shakespeare
O, how thy worth with manners may I sing,
When thou art all the better part of me?
What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?
And what is 't but mine own when I praise thee?
Sonnet XXXIV
© William Shakespeare
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day,
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?
Impromptu
© Frances Anne Kemble
Give me a song to sing,
Poet, sound the lyre,
Strike from the rock the spring,
Smite from the flint the fire.
Sonnet XXXII
© William Shakespeare
If thou survive my well-contented day,
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover,
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover,
Faute De Mieux
© Edith Nesbit
WHEN the corn is green and the poppies red
And the fields are crimson with love-lies-bleeding,
Sonnet XXXI
© William Shakespeare
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,
Which I by lacking have supposed dead,
And there reigns love and all love's loving parts,
And all those friends which I thought buried.
Sonnet XXX
© William Shakespeare
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Sonnet XXVI
© William Shakespeare
Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage
Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit,
To thee I send this written embassage,
To witness duty, not to show my wit:
Wordsworth
© Charles Harpur
With what a plenitude of pure delight
He triumphs on the mountains cloudy height,
With what a gleeful harmony of joy
He wanders down the vale as happy as a boy!
Sonnet XXIX
© William Shakespeare
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deal heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Worthy Art Thou, Returning Home
© Walther von der Vogelweide
Worthy art thou, returning home, the bell
For thee should ring, and crowds come gathering round
Sonnet XXIII
© William Shakespeare
Full many a glorious morning have I seen
Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,
Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;
The Comrade
© Edith Wharton
And I have climbed with you by hidden ways
To meet the dews of morning, and have seen
The shy gods like retreating shadows fade,
Or on the thymy reaches have surprised
Old Chiron sleeping, and have waked him not . . .
Sonnet XXII
© William Shakespeare
My glass shall not persuade me I am old,
So long as youth and thou are of one date;
But when in thee time's furrows I behold,
Then look I death my days should expiate.
Sonnet XXI
© William Shakespeare
So is it not with me as with that Muse
Stirr'd by a painted beauty to his verse,
Who heaven itself for ornament doth use
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse
Sonnet XX
© William Shakespeare
A woman's face with Nature's own hand painted
Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;
A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women's fashion;
Mary
© Caroline Norton
YES, we were happy once, and care
My jocund heart could ne'er surprise;
My treasures were, her golden hair,
Her ruby lips, her brilliant eyes.
