Love poems
/ page 673 of 1285 /from An Explanation of America: A Love of Death
© Robert Pinsky
The child’s heart lightens, tending like a bubble
Towards the currents of the grass and sky,
The pure potential of the clear blank spaces.
A Glimpse
© Walt Whitman
A glimpse through an interstice caught,
Of a crowd of workmen and drivers in a bar-room around the stove late of a winter night, and I unremarkd seated in a corner,
Of a youth who loves me and whom I love, silently approaching and seating himself near, that he may hold me by the hand,
A long while amid the noises of coming and going, of drinking and oath and smutty jest,
There we two, content, happy in being together, speaking little, perhaps not a word.
The Man Who Married Magdalene
© Louis Simpson
The man who married Magdalene
Had not forgiven her.
God might pardon every sin ...
Love is no pardoner.
The Barrel-Organ
© Alfred Noyes
Go down to Kew in lilac-time, in lilac-time, in lilac-time.
Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn’t far from London!),
And you shall wander hand in hand with love in summer’s wonderland.
Go down to Kew in lilac-time (it isn’t far from London!).
The Dream
© Aphra Behn
‘Twas but a dream, yet by my heart I knew,
Which still was panting, part of it was true:
Oh how I strove the rest to have believed;
Ashamed and angry to be undeceived!
Conclusion
© Madison Julius Cawein
The songs Love sang to us are dead:
Yet shall he sing to us again,
When the dull days are wrapped in lead,
And the red woodland drips with rain.
In Praise of Pain
© Heather McHugh
The brightness drawn and quartered on a sheet,
the moment cracked upon a bed, will last
as if you soldered them with moon and flux.
And break the bottle of the eye to see
what lights are spun of accident and glass.
The Missionary - Canto Second
© William Lisle Bowles
The night was still and clear, when, o'er the snows,
Andes! thy melancholy Spirit rose,--
A shadow stern and sad: he stood alone,
Upon the topmost mountain's burning cone;
And whilst his eyes shone dim, through surging smoke,
Thus to the spirits of the fire he spoke:--
Chinese Whispers
© John Ashbery
And in a little while we broke under the strain:
suppurations ad nauseam, the wanting to be taller,
The Columbiad: Book VIII
© Joel Barlow
On fame's high pinnacle their names shall shine,
Unending ages greet the group divine,
Whose holy hands our banners first unfurl'd,
And conquer'd freedom for the grateful world.
The Fire
© Robert Laurence Binyon
With beckoning fingers bright
In heaven uplifted, from the darkness wakes,
Upon a sudden, radiant Fire,
And out of slumber shakes
Fruit-gathering LV
© Anselm Hollo
Tulsidas, the poet, was wandering, deep in thought, by the Ganges, in that lonely spot where they burn their dead.
Be Still. The Hanging Gardens were a Dream
© Trumbull Stickney
Be still. The Hanging Gardens were a dream
That over Persian roses flew to kiss
Home 1
© Edward Thomas
Not the end: but there's nothing more.
Sweet Summer and Winter rude
I have loved, and friendship and love,
The crowd and solitude:
Considerations - On Part Of The 88th Psalm. A College Exercise
© Matthew Prior
Heavy, O Lord, on my thy judgements lie;
Accursed I am while God rejects my cry.
In Jerusalem
© Mahmoud Darwish
In Jerusalem, and I mean within the ancient walls,
I walk from one epoch to another without a memory
The House Of Cards
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
O the chatter, chatter, chatter,
Of the things that do not matter.
Little wordy things that clatter,
Restless feet that pitter patter,
All my pretty houses scatter,
All my noble castles scatter.
An Elegy
© Benjamin Jonson
THOUGH beauty be the mark of praise,
And yours of whom I sing be such
As not the world can praise too much,
Yet 'tis your Virtue now I raise.