Love poems
/ page 682 of 1285 /The Supper
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Blind Roger
Set the glass in my hand. I'm blind and old,
But still I shun to be left in the cold.
from The Bridge: Quaker Hill
© Hart Crane
Above them old Mizzentop, palatial white
Hostelry—floor by floor to cinquefoil dormer
Portholes the ceilings stack their stoic height.
Long tiers of windows staring out toward former
Faces—loose panes crown the hill and gleam
At sunset with a silent, cobwebbed patience . . .
Psyche in Somerville
© Denise Levertov
I am angry with X, with Y, with Z,
for not being you.
Enthusiasms jump at me,
wagging and barking. Go away.
Go home.
A Promise. "By the pure spring, whose haunted waters flow"
© Frances Anne Kemble
By the pure spring, whose haunted waters flow
Through thy sequestered dell unto the sea,
A Lecture upon the Shadow
© John Donne
Stand still, and I will read to thee
A lecture, love, in love's philosophy.
The Broken Crutch: A Tale
© Robert Bloomfield
A burst of laughter rang throughout the hall,
And Peggy's tongue, though overborne by all,
Pour'd its warm blessings, for, without control
The sweet unbridled transport of her soul
Was obviously seen, till Herbert's kiss
Stole, as it were, the eloquence of bliss.
The Intruder
© John Betjeman
My mother—preferring the strange to the tame:
Dove-note, bone marrow, deer dung,
"A child in nature, as a child in years"
© Robert Laurence Binyon
A child in nature, as a child in years,
If on past hours she turn remembering eyes,
She but beholds sweet joys or gentle tears,
Flower hiding flower in her pure memories.
The Captain and the Mermaids
© William Schwenck Gilbert
I SING a legend of the sea,
So hard-a-port upon your lee!
A ship on starboard tack!
She's bound upon a private cruise -
(This is the kind of spice I use
To give a salt-sea smack).
Modern Love: XLIX
© George Meredith
He found her by the oceans moaning verge,
Nor any wicked change in her discerned;
A Sister on the Tracks
© Donald Hall
Between pond and sheepbarn, by maples and watery birches,
Rebecca paces a double line of rust
Cold Calls: War Music, Continued
© Christopher Logue
Take Quinamid
The son of a Dardanian astrologer
Who disregarded what his father said
And came to Troy in a taxi.
A Ballad: The Lake of the Dismal Swamp
© Thomas Moore
Written at Norfolk, in Virginia
They made her a grave, too cold and damp
For a soul so warm and true;
And shes gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp,
Where, all night long, by a fire-fly lamp,
She paddles her white canoe.
Sonnet CXXX: My Mistress' Eyes are Nothing like the Sun
© William Shakespeare
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
The Hill
© Nissim Ezekiel
Do not muse on it
from a distance:
it's not remote
for the view only,
it's for the sport
of climbing.
Song: Why so pale and wan fond lover?
© Sir John Suckling
Why so pale and wan fond lover?
Prithee why so pale?
Will, when looking well can’t move her,
Looking ill prevail?
Prithee why so pale?
Mary's Tryst
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
Young Mary stole along the vale,
To keep her tryst with Ulnor's lord;
A warrior clad in coat of mail
Stood darkling by the brawling ford.
From Blossoms
© Li-Young Lee
From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.