Love poems
/ page 681 of 1285 /A Story About Chicken Soup
© Louis Simpson
In my grandmother’s house there was always chicken soup
And talk of the old country—mud and boards,
Love in the afternoon
© Ovid
It was very hot. The day had gone just past its noon.
I'd stretched out on a couch to take a nap.
One of the window-shutters was open, one was closed.
The light was like you'd see deep in the woods,
Bahaman
© Bliss William Carman
To T. B. M.
IN the crowd that thronged the pierhead, come to see their friends take ship
The Portrait
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
This is her picture as she was:
It seems a thing to wonder on,
To G. M. W. And G. F. W.
© Ellis Parker Butler
Whenas(I love that "whenas" word
It shows I am a poet, too,)
Switzerland And Italy
© Richard Monckton Milnes
Within the Switzer's varied land,
When Summer chases high the snow,
You'll meet with many a youthful band
Of strangers wandering to and fro:
Reserve
© Louise Imogen Guiney
You that are dear, O you above the rest!
Forgive him his evasive moods and cold;
Family Love
© Amado Ruiz de Nervo
I adore my dear mother,
I adore my dear father too;
No one loves me as much
As they know how to love me.
The Sorrow of True Love ?
© Edward Thomas
The sorrow of true love is a great sorrow
And true love parting blackens a bright morrow:
Address to the Devil
© Robert Burns
O thou! whatever title suit thee,—
Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie!
Wha in yon cavern, grim an' sootie,
Clos'd under hatches,
Spairges about the brunstane cootie
To scaud poor wretches!
Domestic Violence
© Eavan Boland
It was winter, lunar, wet. At dusk
Pewter seedlings became moonlight orphans.
Pleased to meet you meat to please you
said the butcher's sign in the window in the village.
Korner And His Sister
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Green wave the oak for ever o'er thy rest,
Thou that beneath its crowning foliage sleepest,
And, in the stillness of thy country's breast,
Thy place of memory, as an altar keepest;
Brightly thy spirit o'er her hills was pour'd,
Thou of the Lyre and Sword!
The Sad Shepherd's Passion of Love
© George Peele
O Gentle Love, ungentle for thy deed,
Thou makest my heart
Special Treatments Ward
© Dana Gioia
I put this poem aside twelve years ago
because I could not bear remembering
the faces it evoked, and every line
seemed—still seems—so inadequate and grim.
Elegy XVIII
© John Donne
THE heavens rejoice in motion ; why should I
Abjure my so much loved variety,
La Bella Mano
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
O BELLA Mano, che ti lavi e piaci
In quel medesmo tuo puro elemento
The Clod and the Pebble
© William Blake
"Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair."