Love poems
/ page 715 of 1285 /
London By Lamplight
© George Meredith
There stands a singer in the street,
He has an audience motley and meet;
Above him lowers the London night,
And around the lamps are flaring bright.
To Mrs. Leonard on The Death of Her Husband
© Phillis Wheatley
GRIM Monarch! see depriv'd of vital breath,
A young Physician in the dust of death!
To My Cottage
© John Clare
Thou lowly cot where first my breath I drew
Past joys endear thee childhoods past delight
The Cane-Bottom’d Chair
© William Makepeace Thackeray
In tattered old slippers that toast at the bars,
And a ragged old jacket perfumed with cigars,
Away from the world and its toils and its cares,
I’ve a snug little kingdom up four pair of stairs.
A Double Standard
© Frances Ellen Watkins Harper
Do you blame me that I loved him?
If when standing all alone
I cried for bread a careless world
Pressed to my lips a stone.
Deserted
© Madison Julius Cawein
A broken rainbow on the skies of May
Touching the sodden roses and low clouds,
A Winter Hymn
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
O WEARY winds! O winds that wail!
O'er desert fields and ice-locked rills!
O heavens that brood so cold and pale
Above the frozen Norland hills!
Epigram - Thy Nags, The Leanest Things Alive
© Matthew Prior
Thy nags, the leanest things alive,
So very hard thou lovest to drive,
I heard thy anxious coachman say
It costs thee more in whips than hay.
The Deserted Village
© Mark van Doren
Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheared the labouring swain,
The First Easter
© Edgar Albert Guest
Dead they left Him in the tomb
And the impenetrable gloom,
Rolled the great stone to the door,
Dead, they thought, forevermore.
The Knight's Epitaph
© William Cullen Bryant
This is the church which Pisa, great and free,
Reared to St. Catharine. How the time-stained walls,
To Toussaint LOuverture
© William Wordsworth
TOUSSAINT, the most unhappy man of men!
Whether the whistling Rustic tend his plough
Within thy hearing, or thy head be now
Pillowed in some deep dungeon's earless den;--
J. D. R.
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THE friends that are, and friends that were,
What shallow waves divide!
I miss the form for many a year
Still seated at my side.
To a Lady on the Death of Her Husband
© Phillis Wheatley
To join for ever on the hills of light:
To thine embrace this joyful spirit moves
To thee, the partner of his earthly loves;
He welcomes thee to pleasures more refin'd,
And better suited to th' immortal mind.
Walking Parker Home
© Bob Kaufman
Sweet beats of jazz impaled on slivers of wind
Kansas Black Morning/ First Horn Eyes/
The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXVII
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
THE SAME CONTINUED
Your youth flowed on, a river chaste and fair,
Till thirty years were written to your name.
A wife, a mother, these the titles were
The House Of Dust: Part 02: 07:
© Conrad Aiken
'One white rose . . . or is it pink, to-day?'
They pause and smile, not caring what they say,
If only they may talk.
The crowd flows past them like dividing waters.
Dreaming they stand, dreaming they walk.
The Picture, Or The Lover's Resolution
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Through weeds and thorns, and matted underwood
I force my way; now climb, and now descend
O'er rocks, or bare or mossy, with wild foot
Crushing the purple whorts; while oft unseen,
