Love poems
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Before The Rain
© Madison Julius Cawein
Within the world these sounds were heard alone,
Save when the ruffian wind swept from the sky,
Making each tree like some sad spirit sigh;
Or shook the clumsy beetle from its weed,
That, in the drowsy darkness, bungling by,
Sharded the silence with its feverish speed.
Sonnet 85: My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still
© William Shakespeare
My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still,
While comments of your praise, richly compiled,
Reserve their character with golden quill,
And precious phrase by all the Muses filed.
An Octopus
© Marianne Clarke Moore
of ice. Deceptively reserved and flat,
it lies "in grandeur and in mass"
Sonnet 79: Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid
© William Shakespeare
Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid,
My verse alone had all thy gentle grace,
But now my gracious numbers are decayed,
And my sick Muse doth give an other place.
The Kind Word
© Ada Cambridge
Speak kindly, wife; the little ones will grow
Fairest and straightest in the warmest sun.
Sonnet 76: Why is my verse so barren of new pride?
© William Shakespeare
Why is my verse so barren of new pride?
So far from variation or quick change?
Why with the time do I not glance aside
To new-found methods, and to compounds strange?
Sonnet 73: That time of year thou mayst in me behold
© William Shakespeare
That time of year thou mayst in me behold,
When yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang.
Sonnet 71: No longer mourn for me when I am dead
© William Shakespeare
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell.
Sonnet 70: That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect
© William Shakespeare
That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect,
For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
The ornament of beauty is suspect,
A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
Revolution
© Lesbia Harford
She is not of the fireside,
My lovely love;
Nor books, nor even a cradle,
She bends above.
Sonnet XII
© Caroline Norton
THE DISDAINED LOVER.
I STAND beside the waves,--the mournful waves,--
Where thou didst stand in silence and in fear,
For thou wert train'd by custom's haughty slaves,
Hope Deferred
© George MacDonald
Thus ringed eternally, to parted graves,
The sundered doors into one palace home,
Stumbling through age's thickets, we will go,
Faltering but faithful-willing to lie low,
Willing to part, not willing to deny
The lovely past, where all the futures lie.
Sonnet 66: Tired with all these, for restful death I cry
© William Shakespeare
Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimmed in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
Sonnet 65: Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea
© William Shakespeare
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
But sad mortality o'ersways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
Sonnet 64: When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced
© William Shakespeare
When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced
The rich-proud cost of outworn buried age;
When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed
And brass eternal slave to mortal rage;
Sonnet 63: Against my love shall be, as I am now
© William Shakespeare
Against my love shall be, as I am now,
With Time's injurious hand crushed and o'erworn;
When hours have drained his blood and filled his brow
With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn
Song of the Palace
© Bai Juyi
Her handkerchief all soaked in tears, she cannot dream,
In deepest night before the palace voices sing.
Her rosy cheeks aren't old, but first love has been cut,
Leaning, wreathed in smoke, she sits until the dawn.
Verses Occasioned By The Right Honourable The Lady Viscountess Tyrconnel's Recovery At Bath
© Richard Savage
Receive thy care! Now Mirth and Health combine.
Each heart shall gladden, and each virtue shine.
Quick to Augusta bear the prize away;
There let her smile, and bid a world be gay.
The Problem
© Henry Timrod
Not to win thy favor, maiden, not to steal away thy heart,
Have I ever sought thy presence, ever stooped to any art;
The Fairy Thorn-Tree
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
And so, 'tis said, if to that fairy thorn-tree
You dare to go, you see her ghost so lone,
She prays for love of her that you will aid her,
And give your soul to buy her back her own.
