Love poems
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Lines from a Plutocratic Poetaster to a Ditch-digger
© Edwin Morgan
Sullen, grimy, labouring person,
As I passed you in my car,
The Exiles Secret
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Why tell each idle guess, each whisper vain?
Enough: the scorched and cindered beams remain.
He came, a silent pilgrim to the West,
Some old-world mystery throbbing in his breast;
Close to the thronging mart he dwelt alone;
He lived; he died. The rest is all unknown.
A Dialogue between the Soul and the Body
© Andrew Marvell
SOUL
O who shall, from this dungeon, raise
From Generation To Generation
© Sir Henry Newbolt
O Son of mine, when dusk shall find thee bending
Between a gravestone and a cradle's head---
Between the love whose name is loss unending
And the young love whose thoughts are liker dread,---
Thou too shalt groan at heart that all thy spending
Cannot repay the dead, the hungry dead.
An Essay on Criticism: Part 3
© Alexander Pope
Learn then what morals critics ought to show,
For 'tis but half a judge's task, to know.
'Tis not enough, taste, judgment, learning, join;
In all you speak, let truth and candour shine:
That not alone what to your sense is due,
All may allow; but seek your friendship too.
Love
© Pablo Neruda
What's wrong with you? I look at you
and I find nothing in you but two eyes
like all eyes, a mouth
lost among a thousand mouths that I have kissed, more beautiful,
a body just like those that have slipped
beneath my body without leaving any memory.
Delia XXXVII
© Samuel Daniel
When men shall find thy flower, thy glory pass,
And thou, with careful brow sitting alone,
Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto III
© Samuel Butler
What made thee, when they all were gone,
And none but thou and I alone,
To act the Devil, and forbear
To rid me of my hellish fear?
Insomnia
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Thin are the night-skirts left behind
By daybreak hours that onward creep,
In The Churchyard At Cambridge. (Birds Of Passage. Flight The First)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
In the village churchyard she lies,
Dust is in her beautiful eyes,
No more she breathes, nor feels, nor stirs;
At her feet and at her head
Lies a slave to attend the dead,
But their dust is white as hers.
The Triumph Of Man
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
I plod and peer amid mean sounds and shapes,
I hunt for dusty gain and dreary praise,
And slowly pass the dismal grinning days,
Monkeying each other like a line of apes.
Sonnets from the Portuguese 35: If I Leave all for thee
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange
And be all to me? Shall I never miss
Moonlight
© Paul Verlaine
Your soul is like a landscape fantasy,
Where masks and Bergamasks, in charming wise,
Ballades III - Of Blue China
© Andrew Lang
Come, snarl at my ecstasies, do,
Kind critic; your tongue has a tang,
Buta sage never heeded a shrew
In the reign of the Emperor Hwang.
The Three Kings [1]
© Henry Lawson
The East is dead and the West is done, and again our course lies thus
South-east by Fate and the Rising Sun where the Three Kings* wait for us.
When our hearts are young and the world is wide, and the heights seem grand to climb
We are off and away to the Sydney-side; but the Three Kings bide their time.
To Marion
© George Gordon Byron
Marion! why that pensive brow?
What disgust to life hast thou?
Change that discontented air;
Frowns become not one so fair.
Sonnet To Lake Leman
© George Gordon Byron
Rousseau -- Voltaire -- our Gibbon -- De Staël --
Leman! these names are worthy of thy shore,
