Love poems
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The Rest
© Ezra Pound
Artists broken against her,
A-stray, lost in the villages,
Mistrusted, spoken-against,
Sonnet CVII: Not mine own Fears, nor the Prophetic Soul
© William Shakespeare
Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul
Of the wide world dreaming on things to come,
The Deer and the Snake
© Kenneth Patchen
The deer is humble, lovely as God made her
I watch her eyes and think of wonder owned
To Mrs. Strangeways Horner, With A Letter From My Son;
© Mary Barber
Methinks, I see your Friendship rise,
And sparkle in your lovely Eyes.
Your Heir! (I hear you now repeat)
I long to know of your Estate.
Say--Is it an Hibernian Bog,
Where Phoebus seldom shines for Fog?
Botticelli's Madonna in the Louvre
© Edith Wharton
WHAT strange presentiment, O Mother, lies
On thy waste brow and sadly-folded lips,
Genie
© Arthur Rimbaud
He is affection and the present since he opened the house to foaming winter and the hum of summer, he who purified drink and food, he who is the charm of fleeting places and the superhuman deliciousness of staying still. He is affection and the future, strength and love that we, standing amid rage and troubles, see passing in the storm-rent sky and on banners of ecstasy.
He is love, perfect and reinvented measurement, wonderful and unforeseen reason, and eternity: machine beloved for its fatal qualities. We have all experienced the terror of his yielding and of our own: O enjoyment of our health, surge of our faculties, egoistic affection and passion for him, he who loves us for his infinite life
And we remember him and he travels. . . And if the Adoration goes away, resounds, its promise resounds: “Away with those superstitions, those old bodies, those couples and those ages. It’s this age that has sunk!”
He won’t go away, nor descend from a heaven again, he won’t accomplish the redemption of women’s anger and the gaiety of men and of all that sin: for it is now accomplished, with him being, and being loved.
The Circus
© Kenneth Koch
Noel Lee was in Paris then but usually out of it
In Germany or Denmark giving a concert
As part of an endless activity
Which was either his career or his happiness or a combination of both
Or neither I remember his dark eyes looking he was nervous
With me perhaps because of our days at Harvard.
Peach Blooms
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
O! tenderly beautiful, beyond compare,
Flushed from pale pink to deepest rosebud hue--
Nurslings of tranquil sunshine and mild air,
Of shadowless dawn, and silvery twilight dew--
Ye blush and burn, as if your flickering grace
Were love's own tint on Spring's enamored face!
A Second Train Song for Gary
© Jack Spicer
When the trains come into strange cities
The citizens come out to meet the strangers.
The Abencerrage : Canto II.
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
"Hamet! oh, wrong me not! - too could speak
Of sorrows - trace them on my faded cheek,
In the sunk eye, and in the wasted form,
That tell the heart hath nursed a canker-worm!
But words were idle - read my sufferings there,
Where grief is stamped on all that once was fair.
The Rights of Women
© Bliss William Carman
Yes, injured Woman! rise, assert thy right!
Woman! too long degraded, scorned, opprest;
O born to rule in partial Law's despite,
Resume thy native empire o'er the breast!
Jenny
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
It was a careless life I led
When rooms like this were scarce so strange
Not long ago. What breeds the change,
The many aims or the few years?
Because to-night it all appears
Something I do not know again.
Song VI
© Edith Nesbit
"LOVE me little, love me long,"
Is the burden of my song,
And if nothing more may be
Little shall suffice for me.
To Delia
© William Cowper
Me to whatever state the gods assign,
Believe, my love, whatever state be mine,
Locksley Hall
© Alfred Tennyson
Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet 't is early morn:
Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the bugle-horn.
"Fie, foolish earth..."
© Fulke Greville
Fie, foolish earth, think you the heaven wants glory
Because your shadows do yourself benight?
The Instruction Manual
© John Ashbery
As I sit looking out of a window of the building
I wish I did not have to write the instruction manual on the uses of a new metal.
Elegy with Surrealist Proverbs as Refrain
© Dana Gioia
“Poetry must lead somewhere,” declared Breton.
He carried a rose inside his coat each day
Gratitude And Love To God
© William Cowper
All are indebted much to thee,
But I far more than all,
From many a deadly snare set free,
And raised from many a fall.
Overwhelm me, from above,
Daily, with thy boundless love.
