Love poems
/ page 686 of 1285 /The Mock Song
© John Wilmot
I swive as well as others do,
I’m young, not yet deformed,
My tender heart, sincere, and true,
Deserves not to be scorned.
Ode To Stephen Bowling Bots
© Mark Twain
And did young Stephen sicken,
And did young Stephen die?
And did the sad hearts thicken,
And did the mourners cry?
The Sleigh-Bells
© Susanna Moodie
Tis merry to hear, at evening time,
By the blazing hearth the sleigh-bells chime;
The Love of the World Reproved: or, Hypocrisy Detected
© William Cowper
Thus says the prophet of the Turk;
Good musselman, abstain from pork!
The Crystal Lithium
© James Schuyler
The smell of snow, stinging in nostrils as the wind lifts it from a beach
Eve-shuttering, mixed with sand, or when snow lies under the street lamps and on all
When To The Attractions Of The Busy World
© William Wordsworth
WHEN, to the attractions of the busy world,
Preferring studious leisure, I had chosen
A habitation in this peaceful Vale,
Sharp season followed of continual storm
Leave-Taking
© Louise Bogan
I do not know where either of us can turn
Just at first, waking from the sleep of each other.
The Weird Lady
© Charles Kingsley
The swevens came up round Harold the Earl,
Like motes in the sunnes beam;
And over him stood the Weird Lady,
In her charmed castle over the sea,
Sang 'Lie thou still and dream.'
Sonnet XXV: Let those who are in Favour with their Stars
© William Shakespeare
Let those who are in favour with their stars
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Ave, Caesar!
© William Ernest Henley
From the winter's grey despair,
From the summer's golden languor,
Death, the lover of Life,
Frees us for ever.
"Come Away, Come Away, Death"
© William Shakespeare
Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid.
Modern Love: XIV
© George Meredith
What soul would bargain for a cure that brings
Contempt the nobler agony to kill?
A Wraith Of Summertime
© James Whitcomb Riley
In its color, shade and shine,
'T was a summer warm as wine,
With an effervescent flavoring of flowered bough and vine,
And a fragrance and a taste
Of ripe roses gone to waste,
And a dreamy sense of sun- and moon- and star-light interlaced.
The Ballad of Reading Gaol
© Oscar Wilde
He walked amongst the Trial Men
In a suit of shabby gray;
A cricket cap was on his head,
And his step seemed light and gay;
But I never saw a man who looked
So wistfully at the day.
Summer near the River
© John Betjeman
I am as monogamous as the North Star,
But I don’t want you to know it. You’d only take advantage.
While you are as fickle as spring sunlight.
All right, sleep! The cat means more to you than I.
I can rouse you, but then you swagger out.
I glimpse you from the window, striding toward the river.
A Nocturnal upon St. Lucy's Day
© John Donne
'Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's,
Lucy's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks;
The Reef
© Aldous Huxley
My green aquarium of phantom fish,
Goggling in on me through the misty panes;
My rotting leaves and fields spongy with rains;
My few clear quiet autumn days--I wish
Lines Addressed To A.C.,
© Helen Maria Williams
Nor past, nor future cloud thy brow,
Thy range of thought confin'd to now;
Calm on a mother's breast you lie,
And heed not if, with tearful eye,
For thee her wishes fondly stray
O'er many a New-Year's Day.