Love poems
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The New Year. Rosh-Hashanah, 5643
© Emma Lazarus
Not while the snow-shroud round dead earth is rolled,
And naked branches point to frozen skies,-
When orchards burn their lamps of fiery gold,
The grape glows like a jewel, and the corn
A sea of beauty and abundance lies,
Then the new year is born.
Sonnet
© Robert Hass
A man talking to his ex-wife on the phone.
He has loved her voice and listens with attention
To a Lady that Desired I Would Love Her
© Thomas Carew
Now you have freely given me leave to love,
What will you do?
Shall I your mirth, or passion move,
When I begin to woo;
Will you torment, or scorn, or love me too?
Death Of Queen Mercedes
© James Russell Lowell
Hers all that Earth could promise or bestow,--
Youth, Beauty, Love, a crown, the beckoning years,
The Widow's Lullaby
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
She droops like a dew-dropping lily,
'Whisht thee, boy, whisht thee, boy Willie!
Whisht whisht o' thy wailing, whisht thee, boy Willie!'
The Doughboy's Horace
© Franklin Pierce Adams
While I was fussing you at home
You put the notion in my dome
That I was the Molasses Kid.
I batted strong. I'll say I did.
The Story of Phœbus and Daphne, Applied
© Edmund Waller
Thyrsis, a youth of the inspired train,
Fair Sacharissa lov’d, but lov’d in vain;
A Sequence of Sonnets on the Death of Robert Browning
© Algernon Charles Swinburne
The works of words whose life seems lightning wrought,
And moulded of unconquerable thought,
And quickened with imperishable flame,
Stand fast and shine and smile, assured that nought
May fade of all their myriad-moulded fame,
Nor England's memory clasp not Browning's name.
Forgetfulness
© Billy Collins
The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read, never even heard of,
Cold!
© Leon Gellert
Come not to me with loveliness
Across the crying hill;
For once I held thee pitiless
Hast thou no pity still?
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 27
© Alfred Tennyson
I envy not in any moods
The captive void of noble rage,
The linnet born within the cage,
That never knew the summer woods:
I Feel Horrible. She Doesn’t
© Jack Gilbert
I feel horrible. She doesn’t
love me and I wander around
the house like a sewing machine
that’s just finished sewing
a turd to a garbage can lid.
The Homely Man
© Edgar Albert Guest
Looks as though a cyclone hit him-
Can't buy clothes that seem to fit him;
Sacred And Profane Love
© Alfred Austin
Profane Love speaks
``I am the Goddess mortals call Profane,
Yet worship me as though I were divine;
Over their lives, unrecognised, I reign,
For all their thoughts are mine.
Half Border and Half Lab
© Heather McHugh
He saved our sorry
highfalutin souls — the heavens haven't saved a fly. Orion's
canniness who can condone? — that starring story, strapping blade! —
and Sirius is just a Fido joke — no laughter shakes the firmament.
But O the family dog, the Buddha-dog — son of a bitch!
he had a funny bone —
Sonnet XXX. To The River Arun
© Charlotte Turner Smith
BE the proud Thames of trade the busy mart!
Arun! to thee will other praise belong;
Dear to the lover's and the mourner's heart,
And ever sacred to the sons of song!
