Love poems
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Sonnet LX: Lo, Here the Impost
© Samuel Daniel
Lo, here the impost of a faith unfeigning
That love hath paid, and her disdain extorted,
The Soul Of The Anzac
© Roderic Quinn
THE form that was mine was brown and hard,
And thewed and muscled, and tall and straight;
Child, Child
© Sara Teasdale
Child, child, love while you can
The voice and the eyes and the soul of a man;
Never fear though it break your heart -
Out of the wound new joy will start;
Only love proudly and gladly and well,
Though love be heaven or love be hell.
To the Shade of Burns
© Charlotte Turner Smith
Mute is thy wild harp, now, O Bard sublime!
Who, amid Scotia’s mountain solitude,
Sonnets from The River Duddon: After-Thought
© André Breton
I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide,
Sonnet 42: That thou hast her it is not all my grief
© William Shakespeare
That thou hast her it is not all my grief,
And yet it may be said I loved her dearly,
Who Understands Me but Me
© James Russell Lowell
They turn the water off, so I live without water,
they build walls higher, so I live without treetops,
Inventory
© Dorothy Parker
Four be the things I am wiser to know:
Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a foe.
For The King
© Francis Bret Harte
As you look from the plaza at Leon west
You can see her house, but the view is best
From the porch of the church where she lies at rest;
The Snowmass Cycle
© Stephen Dunn
If the rich are casually cruel
perhaps its because
they can stare at the sky
and never see an indictment
in the shape of clouds.
Kathleen
© John Greenleaf Whittier
O Norah, lay your basket down,
And rest your weary hand,
And come and hear me sing a song
Of our old Ireland.
The Yarn of the Nancy Bell
© William Schwenck Gilbert
'Twas on the shores that round our coast
From Deal to Ramsgate span,
That I found alone on a piece of stone
An elderly naval man.
"I know that all beneath the moon decays"
© William Drummond (of Hawthornden)
I know that all beneath the moon decays,
And what by mortals in this world is brought,
The Dream
© Caroline Norton
Ah! bless'd are they for whom 'mid all their pains
That faithful and unalter'd love remains;
Who, Life wreck'd round them,--hunted from their rest,--
And, by all else forsaken or distress'd,--
Claim, in one heart, their sanctuary and shrine--
As I, my Mother, claim'd my place in thine!
Little Elsie
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
An, don't come a-wooing with your long, long face,
And your longer purse behind:
Extempore Effusion upon the Death of James Hogg
© André Breton
When first, descending from the moorlands,
I saw the Stream of Yarrow glide
Along a bare and open valley,
The Ettrick Shepherd was my guide.
Infidelity
© Yusef Komunyakaa
Zeus always introduces himself
As one who needs stitching
Back together with kisses.
Like a rock star in leather
Dying Speech of an Old Philosopher
© Heather Fuller
I strove with none, for none was worth my strife:
Nature I loved, and, next to Nature, Art:
I warmd both hands before the fire of Life;
It sinks; and I am ready to depart.
The Beauty of Things
© Robinson Jeffers
To feel and speak the astonishing beauty of thingsearth, stone and water,
Beast, man and woman, sun, moon and stars
Snip Your Hair by Regina DeSalva: American Life in Poetry #128 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-2
© Ted Kooser
Our poet this week is 16-year-old Devon Regina DeSalva of Los Angeles, California, who says she wrote this poem to get back at her mother, only to find that her mother loved the poem.
Snip Your Hair
