Love poems
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Town Eclogues: Monday; Roxana or the Drawing-Room
© Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
ROXANA from the court retiring late,
Sigh'd her soft sorrows at St. JAMES's gate:
Such heavy thoughts lay brooding in her breast,
Not her own chairmen wth more weight opprest;
They groan the cruel load they're doom'd to bear ;
She in these gentler sounds express'd her care.
O Mistress Mine Where are you Roaming?
© William Shakespeare
O Mistress mine where are you roaming?
O stay and hear, your true love's coming,
That can sing both high and low.
Trip no further pretty sweeting.
Journeys end in lovers' meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.
The Burning Babe
© Robert Southwell
As I in hoary winter’s night stood shivering in the snow,
Surpris’d I was with sudden heat which made my heart to glow;
Sonnet XL: Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all
© William Shakespeare
Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all:
What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?
Are The Children At Home?
© Margaret Elizabeth Sangster
Each day when the glow of sunset
Fades in the western sky,
The End of Science Fiction
© Paul Eluard
This is not fantasy, this is our life.
We are the characters
Town Eclogues: Saturday; The Small-Pox
© Lady Mary Wortley Montagu
FLAVIA. THE wretched FLAVIA on her couch reclin'd,
Thus breath'd the anguish of a wounded mind ;
A glass revers'd in her right hand she bore,
For now she shun'd the face she sought before.
Absolution
© Edith Nesbit
He stood beside her, young and strong, and swayed
With pity for the sorrow in her eyes--
Which, as she raised them to his own, conveyed
Into his soul a sort of sad surprise--
Failed Tribute to the Stonemason of Tor House, Robinson Jeffers
© James Tate
We traveled down to see your house,
Tor House, Hawk Tower, in Carmel,
The Guitarist Tunes Up
© Frances Darwin Cornford
With what attentive courtesy he bent
Over his instrument;
The Beautiful
© Roddy Lumsden
Into perplexity: as an itch chased round
an oxter or early man in the cave mouth
watching rain-drifts pour from beyond
The Storm.
© Robert Crawford
I can hear the great boughs swing
Through the stormy night,
Each a dryad-haunted thing
With its dark delight,
A Life Of Crime
© William Matthews
Frail friends, I love you all!
Maybe that's the trouble,
storm in the eye of a storm.
Everyone wants too much.
Instead we gratefully accept
some stylized despair:
Epistle To A Young Friend
© Robert Burns
I lang hae thought, my youthfu' friend,
A something to have sent you,
Tho' it should serve nae ither end
Than just a kind momento:
The House of Life: 19. Silent Noon
© Dante Gabriel Rossetti
Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragon-fiy
Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky:—
So this wing'd hour is dropt to us from above.
Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower,
This close-companioned inarticulate hour
When twofold silence was the song of love.
