Love poems
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Ancestor
© James Russell Lowell
It was a time when they were afraid of him.
My father, a bare man, a gypsy, a horse
Sapphos Last Song
© John Jay Chapman
THIS was the summer whose gradual splendor
Burned the meridian while the deep sea
Whispering, murmuring, watched the surrender,
Cradled my union, my loved one, with thee.
Full Moon
© Elinor Wylie
My bands of silk and miniver
Momently grew heavier;
The black gauze was beggarly thin;
The ermine muffled mouth and chin;
I could not suck the moonlight in.
Rich And Poor
© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
Neath the radiance faint of the starlit sky
The gleaming snow-drifts lay wide and high;
Oer hill and dell stretched a mantle white,
The branches glittered with crystal bright;
But the winter winds keen icy breath
Was merciless, numbing and chill as death.
In Praise Of Music And Poetry
© Richard Barnfield
If music and sweet poetry agree,
As they must needs (the sister and the brother),
Amoretti LXXXIX: Lyke as the Culver on the barèd bough
© Edmund Spenser
Lyke as the Culver on the barèd bough,
Sits mourning for the absence of her mate:
Chicago Poem
© Lew Welch
I lived here nearly 5 years before I could
meet the middle western day with anything approaching
Visitation by Jeffrey Harrison: American Life in Poetry #115 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-200
© Ted Kooser
Each of the senses has a way of evoking time and place. In this bittersweet poem by Jeffrey Harrison of Massachusetts, birdsong offers reassurance as the speaker copes with loss.
Visitation
Fears In Solitude. Written In April, 1798, During The Alarm Of An Invasion
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
A green and silent spot, amid the hills,
A small and silent dell! O'er stiller place
No singing sky-lark ever poised himself.
The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope,
Intellectuals
© Robinson Jeffers
Is it so hard for men to stand by themselves,
They must hang on Marx or Christ, or mere Progress?
Clearly it is hard. But these ought to be leaders . . .
Sheep leading sheep, "The fold, the fold.
Night comes, and the wolves of doubt." Clearly it is hard.
The Lake of the Thousand Isles
© Evan MacColl
(For Music.)
Though Missouri'stide may majestic glide,
There's a curse on the soil it laves;
The Ohio, too, may be fair, but who
Pygmaeo-gerano-machia: The Battle Of The Pygmies and Cranes
© James Beattie
Nor less th' alarm that shook the world below,
Where march'd in pomp of war th' embattled foe;
Where mannikins with haughty step advance,
And grasp the shield, and couch the quivering lance;
To right and left the lengthening lines they form,
And rank'd in deep array await the storm.
Child on the Marsh
© Andrew Hudgins
I worked the river’s slick banks, grabbling
in mud holes underneath tree roots.
Emptiness
© Katharine Tynan
Where there is nothing God comes in:
The Very God has room enough
In the poor heart that's stripped so clean
Of earth and all the joys thereof.
Vernal Ode
© William Wordsworth
I
BENEATH the concave of an April sky,
When all the fields with freshest green were dight,
Appeared, in presence of the spiritual eye
