Love poems
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Assurance
© Emma Lazarus
Last night I slept, and when I woke her kiss
Still floated on my lips. For we had strayed
The Reverie of Poor Susan
© André Breton
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,
Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three years:
Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has heard
In the silence of morning the song of the Bird.
The Princess: The Splendour Falls on Castle Walls
© Alfred Tennyson
The splendour falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story:
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
The Veteran
© William Henry Ogilvie
He asks no favour from the Field, no forward place demands
Save what he claims by fearless heart and light and dainty hands;
No man need make a way for him at ditch or gap or gate,
He rides on level terms with all, if not at equal weight
The Horse Fell Off the Poem
© Mahmoud Darwish
The horse fell off the poem
and the Galilean women were wet
with butterflies and dew,
dancing above chrysanthemum
The Suicide
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
Last was the wealth I carried in life's pack-
Youth, health, ambition, hope and trust but Time
A Note on My Son’s Face
© Toi Derricotte
Mother. Grandmother. Wise
Snake-woman who will show the way;
Spider-woman whose black tentacles
hold him precious. Or will tear off his head,
her teeth over the little husband,
the small fist clotted in trust at her breast.
Sonnet: Grief Dies
© Henry Timrod
Grief dies like joy; the tears upon my cheek
Will disappear like dew. Dear God! I know
A Poets Welcome To His Love-Begotten Daughter
© Robert Burns
Thou's welcome, wean; mishanter fa' me,
If thoughts o' thee, or yet thy mammie,
Shall ever daunton me or awe me,
My sweet wee lady,
Or if I blush when thou shalt ca' me
Tyta or daddie.
An Drinaun Donn
© Padraic Colum
A HUNDRED men think I am theirs when with them I
drink ale,
But their presence fades away from me and their high spirits fail
When I think upon your converse kind by the meadow
and the linn,
And your form smoother than the silk on the Mountain of O'Flynn.
The Pillar Towers of Ireland
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
The pillar towers of Ireland, how wondrously they stand
By the lakes and rushing rivers through the valleys of our land;
In mystic file, through the isle, they lift their heads sublime,
These gray old pillar temples, these conquerors of time!
Yesterdays
© Robert Creeley
Sixty-two, sixty-three, I most remember
As time W. C. Williams dies and we are
