Love poems

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Dover Beach

© Matthew Arnold

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Ægean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

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The Scamps

© Henry Lawson

Of home, name and wealth and ambition bereft—

  We are children of fortune and luck:

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This Hour and What Is Dead

© Li-Young Lee

God, that old furnace, keeps talking 
with his mouth of teeth,
a beard stained at feasts, and his breath 
of gasoline, airplane, human ash. 
His love for me feels like fire,
feels like doves, feels like river-water.

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Dulcis Memoria

© Henry Van Dyke

Long, long ago I heard a little song,

 (Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?)

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Amoretti XXX: My Love is like to ice, and I to fire

© Edmund Spenser

My Love is like to ice, and I to fire:


How comes it then that this her cold so great

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The Knight Of Toggenburg

© Johann Christoph Friedrich Von Schiller

.   "I Can love thee well, believe me,

  As a sister true;

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The Foreign Drunk

© Henry Lawson

When you get tight in foreign lands

  You never need go slinking,

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Fatigue

© Hilaire Belloc

I'm tired of Love: I'm still more tired of Rhyme.
But Money gives me pleasure all the time.

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To-- Oh! there are spirits of the air

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

Oh! there are spirits of the air,
And genii of the evening breeze,
And gentle ghosts, with eyes as fair
As star-beams among twilight trees:—
Such lovely ministers to meet
Oft hast thou turned from men thy lonely feet.

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The Candidate

© Charles Churchill

This poem was written in , on occasion of the contest between the

  Earls of Hardwicke and Sandwich for the High-stewardship of the

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First turn to me. . . .

© Bernadette Mayer

First turn to me after a shower,

you come inside me sideways as always

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The Annihilation of Nothing

© Thom Gunn

Nothing remained: Nothing, the wanton name
That nightly I rehearsed till led away
To a dark sleep, or sleep that held one dream.

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Above The Gaspereau

© Bliss William Carman

How still through the sweet summer sun, through the soft summer rain,
They have stood there awaiting the summons should bid them attain
The freedom of knowledge, the last touch of truth to explain
The great golden gist of their brooding, the marvellous train
Of thought they have followed so far, been so strong to sustain,—
The white gospel of sun and the long revelations of rain!

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The Talisman

© Henry Van Dyke

What is Fortune, what is Fame?

Futile gold and phantom name,—

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A Woman's Looks

© Pierre Reverdy

  A woman’s looks


  Are barbed hooks,

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A Salutation

© Louise Imogen Guiney

High-hearted Surrey! I do love your ways,

Venturous, frank, romantic, vehement,

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Inscribed

© James Whitcomb Riley

To the Elect of Love,--or side-by-side
In raptest ecstasy, or sundered wide
By seas that bear no message to or fro
Between the loved and lost of long ago.

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My Garden

© Ralph Waldo Emerson

If I could put my woods in song
And tell what's there enjoyed,
All men would to my gardens throng,
And leave the cities void.

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On An Icicle That Clung To The Grass Of A Grave

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

I.
Oh! take the pure gem to where southerly breezes,
Waft repose to some bosom as faithful as fair,
In which the warm current of love never freezes,

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Break of Day (another of the same)

© John Donne

'Tis true, 'tis day; what though it be?
O wilt thou therefore rise from me?
Why should we rise, because 'tis light?
Did we lie down, because 'twas night?
Love which in spite of darkness brought us hither
Should in despite of light keep us together.