Love poems
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English Eclogues VI - The Ruined Cottage
© Robert Southey
I pass this ruin'd dwelling oftentimes
And think of other days. It wakes in me
A transient sadness, but the feelings Charles
That ever with these recollections rise,
I trust in God they will not pass away.
An Introduction to My Anthology
© Marvin Bell
Such a book must contain—
it always does!—a disclaimer.
To Mrs. M. A. Upon Absence
© Katherine Philips
Tis now since I began to die
Four months, yet still I gasping live;
Wrappd up in sorrow do I lie,
Hoping, yet doubting a reprieve.
Adam from Paradise expelld
Just such a wretched being held.
The Truth is Blind
© David Gascoyne
Autumnal breath of mornings far from here
A star veiled in grey mist
A living man:
Immortal Sails
© Alfred Noyes
Now, in a breath, we’ll burst those gates of gold,
And ransack heaven before our moment fails.
Now, in a breath, before we, too, grow old,
We’ll mount and sing and spread immortal sails.
A Child My Choice
© Robert Southwell
Let folly praise that fancy loves, I praise and love that Child
Whose heart no thought, whose tongue no word, whose hand no deed defiled.
Memorizing “The Sun Rising” by John Donne
© Billy Collins
Every reader loves the way he tells off
the sun, shouting busy old fool
into the English skies even though they
were likely cloudy on that seventeenth-century morning.
Sonnets from the Portuguese 14: If Thou
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say
Paradise Lost: Book I (1674)
© Patrick Kavanagh
So spake th' Apostate Angel, though in pain,
Vaunting aloud, but rackt with deep despare:
And him thus answer'd soon his bold Compeer.
Under The Rose
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Oh the rose of keenest thorn!
One hidden summer morn
Under the rose I was born.
Christmas Night Of '62
© William Gordon McCabe
The wintry blast goes wailing by,
The snow is falling overhead;
I hear the lonely sentry's tread,
And distant watch-fires light the sky.
Night Feeding
© Katha Pollitt
Deeper than sleep but not so deep as death
I lay there dreaming and my magic head
Cullen in the Afterlife
© P. K. Page
He must wake up. He must expose and strip
successive layers to ?nd his soul again.
Where had the rubble come from? He was like
a junkyard—cluttered, ?lled with scrap iron, tin.
As dead as any metal not in use.
Jim Crow Cars
© Lizelia Augusta Jenkins Moorer
If within the cruel Southland you have chanced to take a ride,
You the Jim Crow cars have noticed, how they crush a Negro's pride,
How he pays a first class passage and a second class receives,
Gets the worst accommodations ev'ry friend of truth believes.
Trying to Write a Poem While the Couple in the Apartment Overhead Make Love
© David Wagoner
She's like a singer straying slowly off key
while trying too hard to remember the words to a song
Amen
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
It is over. What is over?
Nay, now much is over truly!
Harvest days we toiled to sow for;
Now the sheaves are gathered newly,
Now the wheat is garnered duly.
Joining The Colours
© Katharine Tynan
THERE they go marching all in step so gay!
Smooth-cheeked and golden, food for shells and guns.
Blithely they go as to a wedding day,
The mothers' sons.
Sonnet LXXI: No Longer Mourn for me when I am Dead
© William Shakespeare
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than you shall hear the surly sudden bell
For Love
© Robert Creeley
for Bobbie
Yesterday I wanted to
speak of it, that sense above
the others to me
important because all
