Love poems
/ page 74 of 1285 /Evangeline: Part The Second. III.
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
NEAR to the bank of the river, o'ershadowed by oaks, from whose branches
Garlands of Spanish moss and of mystic mistletoe flaunted,
Metamorphoses: Book The Twelfth
© Ovid
The End of the Twelfth Book.
Translated into English verse under the direction of
Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
William Congreve and other eminent hands
Out of Your Love
© Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi
Out of your love the fire of youth will rise.
In the chest, visions of the soul will rise.
If you are going to kill me, kill me, it is alright.
When the friend kills, a new life will rise.
The City (2)
© Archibald Lampman
Canst thou not rest, O city,
That liest so wide and fair;
Shall never an hour bring pity,
Nor end be found for care?
A Christmas Lyric
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
THO' the Earth with age seems whitened,
And her tresses hoary and old
No longer are flushed mad brightened
By glintings of brown or gold,
Bathing In The River
© Abraham Cowley
The fish around her crowded, as they do
To the false light that treacherous fisher shew,
Wold Friends A-Met
© William Barnes
Aye, vull my heart's blood now do roll,
An' gaÿ do rise my happy soul,
The Rose And The Fern
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
LADY, life's sweetest lesson wouldst thou learn,
Come thou with me to Love's enchanted bower
High overhead the trellised roses burn;
Beneath thy feet behold the feathery fern,--
A leaf without a flower.
Vicksburg.A Ballad
© Paul Hamilton Hayne
FOR sixty days and upwards,
A storm of shell and shot
Rained round us in a flaming shower,
But still we faltered not.
My Religion
© Edgar Albert Guest
My religion's lovin' God, who made us, one and all,
Who marks, no matter where it be, the humble sparrow's fall;
An' my religion's servin' Him the very best I can
By not despisin' anything He made, especially man!
It's lovin' sky an' earth an' sun an' birds an' flowers an' trees,
But lovin' human beings more than any one of these.
The Dreamboat
© Sri Aurobindo
Who was it that came to me in a boat made of dream-fire,
With his flame brow and his sun-gold body?
Melted was the silence into a sweet secret murmur,
"Do you come now? Is the heart's fire ready?"
Non Dolet!
© Edith Wharton
So weary a world it lies, forlorn of day,
And yet not wholly dark,
Since evermore some soul that missed the mark
Calls back to those agrope
In the mad maze of hope,
Courage, my brothersI have found the way!
The Mermaidens' Vesper-Hymn
© George Darley
Troop home to silents grots and caves!
Troop home! And mimic as you go
The mournful winding of the waves
Which to their dark abysses flow!
Sappho to Phaon (Ovid Heroid XV)
© Alexander Pope
Say, lovely youth, that dost my heart command,
Can Phaon's eyes forget his Sappho's hand?
Finery
© Ann Taylor
IN an elegant frock, trimm'd with beautiful lace,
And hair nicely curl'd, hanging over her face,
Young Fanny went out to the house of a friend,
With a large little party the evening to spend.
To The First Born
© Louisa May Alcott
WELCOME, welcome, little stranger,
Fear no harm, and fear no danger;
Graves At Christiania
© Katharine Lee Bates
WE bore them their own wild heather
And ash-boughs jeweled red,
Idyll XXIII. Love Avenged
© Theocritus
A lad deep-dipt in passion pined for one
Whose mood was froward as her face was fair.
Lovers she loathed, for tenderness she had none:
Ne'er knew what Love was like, nor how he bare
A bow, and arrows to make young maids smart:
Proof to all speech, all access, seemed her heart.