Love poems

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Sonnet CX: Alas, 'tis True I have Gone here and there

© William Shakespeare

Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there


And made myself a motley to the view,

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Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood

© André Breton

The child is father of the man;


And I could wish my days to be

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The Book of Hours

© Boris Pasternak

Like the blue angels of the nativity, the museum patrons 

hover around the art historian, who has arrived frazzled 

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Snow-Bound: A Winter Idyl

© John Greenleaf Whittier

To the Memory of the Household It Describes


This Poem is Dedicated by the Author

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The Waste Carpet

© William Matthews

O California, sportswear
and defense contracts, gasses that induce
deference, high school girls
with their own cars, we wanted
to love you without pain.

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Sonnet CIX: O! never say that I was false of heart

© William Shakespeare

O! never say that I was false of heart,

Though absence seemed my flame to qualify.

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Nox Borealis

© Louis Zukofsky

If Socrates drank his portion of hemlock willingly,
if the Appalachians have endured unending ages of erosion,
if the wind can learn to read our minds
and moonlight moonlight as a master pickpocket,
surely we can contend with contentment as our commission.

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Each Defeat

© Eileen Myles

I couldn’t tell anyone about this sight.
Each defeat
Is sweet.

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from Don Juan: Canto I, Stanzas 41-42

© Lord Byron

41


His classic studies made a little puzzle,

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The Uniform

© Marvin Bell

Of the sleeves, I remember their weight, like wet wool,

on my arms, and the empty ends which hung past my hands. 

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This Room and Everything in It

© Li-Young Lee

Lie still now
while I prepare for my future,
certain hard days ahead,
when I’ll need what I know so clearly this moment.

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The Secular Masque

© John Dryden

JANUS
Since Momus comes to laugh below,
 Old Time begin the show,
That he may see, in every scene,
What changes in this age have been,

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“And then we cowards”

© Cesare Pavese

And then we cowards

who loved the whispering

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Ellen West

© Frank Bidart

I love sweets,—
  heaven
would be dying on a bed of vanilla ice cream ...
But my true self 

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September Notebook: Stories

© Robert Hass

Driving up 80 in the haze, they talked and talked.
(Smoke in the air shimmering from wildfires.)
His story was sad and hers was roiled, troubled.

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On the Departure of the Nightingale

© Charlotte Turner Smith

Sweet poet of the woods, a long adieu!

 Farewell soft mistrel of the early year!

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The Geranium

© Roger McGough

In the close covert of a grove


By nature formed for scenes of love,

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The Princess: Tears, Idle Tears

© Alfred Tennyson

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.

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Oft, in the Stilly Night (Scotch Air)

© Thomas Moore

Oft, in the stilly night,


Ere slumber’s chain has bound me,