Love poems
/ page 770 of 1285 /Voyages
© Hart Crane
Above the fresh ruffles of the surf
Bright striped urchins flay each other with sand.
They have contrived a conquest for shell shucks,
And their fingers crumble fragments of baked weed
Gaily digging and scattering.
An Indian Wind Song
© Peter McArthur
THE wolf of the winter wind is swift,
And hearts are still and cheeks are pale,
The Snow Is Deep on the Ground
© Kenneth Patchen
The snow is deep on the ground.
Always the light falls
Softly down on the hair of my belovèd.
To The Honble. Miss Carteret, Now Countess Of Dysert.
© Mary Barber
Fair Innocence, the Muses lovelicst
On Acts of Mercy sound thy rising Fame.
Let others from frail Beauty hope Applause:
Plead thou the Fatherless, and Widow's Cause.
... by an Earthquake
© John Ashbery
A, undergoing a strange experience among a people weirdly deluded, discovers the secret of the delusion from Herschel, one of the victims who has died. By means of information obtained from the notebook, A succeeds in rescuing the other victims of the delusion.
A dies of psychic shock.
Albert has a dream, or an unusual experience, psychic or otherwise, which enables him to conquer a serious character weakness and become successful in his new narrative, “Boris Karloff.”
Fancy and the Poet
© Susanna Moodie
I took the crown from the snowy hand,
It flashed like a living star;
I turned this dark earth to a fairy land
When I hither drive my car;
But I placed the crown round my tresses bright,
And man only saw its reflected light—
The Flâneur
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
Boston Common, December 6, 1882 during the Transit of Venus
I love all sights of earth and skies,
The Name
© Gerald Stern
Having outlived Allen I am the one who
has to suffer New York all by myself and
The Posture
© Lucretius
Of like importance is the posture too,
In which the genial feat of Love we do:
The Cry Of A Lost Soul
© John Greenleaf Whittier
In that black forest, where, when day is done,
With a snake's stillness glides the Amazon
Darkly from sunset to the rising sun,
To Virgil, Written at the Request of the Manuans for the Nineteenth Centenary of Virgil's Death
© Alfred Tennyson
Roman Virgil, thou that singest
Ilion's lofty temples robed in fire,
Ilion falling, Rome arising,
wars, and filial faith, and Dido's pyre;
Monday In Whitsun-Week
© John Keble
Since all that is not Heaven must fade,
Light be the hand of Ruin laid
Upon the home I love:
With lulling spell let soft Decay
Steal on, and spare the giant sway,
The crash of tower and grove.
We Sing to Thee, Thou Son of God
© Augustus Montague Toplady
We sing to Thee, Thou Son of God,
Fountain of life and grace;
We praise Thee, Son of Man, whose blood
Redeemed our fallen race.
Modern Love XXX
© George Meredith
What are we first? First, animals; and next
Intelligences at a leap; on whom
The Woods Shake In An Ague-Fit
© Mathilde Blind
The woods shake in an ague-fit,
The mad wind rocks the pine,
From sea to sea the white gulls flit
Into the roaring brine.
Thy Better Self
© Jones Very
I AM thy other self, what thou wilt be,
When thou art I, the one seest now;
Five Visions of Captain Cook
© Kenneth Slessor
Two chronometers the captain had,
One by Arnold that ran like mad,
One by Kendal in a walnut case,
Poor devoted creature with a hangdog face.