Love poems
/ page 789 of 1285 /
Down-Hall. A Ballad.
© Matthew Prior
I sing not old Jason who travell'd through Greece
To kiss the fair maids and possess the rich fleece,
Nor sing I AEneas, who, led by his mother,
Got rid of one wife and went far for another.
Derry down, down, hey derry down.
Phaethon--Attempted In Galliambic Measure
© George Meredith
Lither, noisy in the breezes now his sisters shivering weep,
By the river flowing smooth out to the vexed sea of Adria,
Where he fell, and where they suffered sudden change to the
tremulous
Ever-wailful trees bemoaning him, a bruised purple cyclamen.
Aftersong
© Friedrich Nietzsche
O noon of life! A time to celebrate!
Oh garden of summer!
Restless happiness in standing, gazing, waiting:
I wait for friends, ready day and night.
You friends, where are you? Come! It's time! It's time!
Just To Drift
© Roderic Quinn
DRIFTING down the Harbour,
Stars on high,
Lovers of the surface,
You and I,
Epilogue
© Paul Verlaine
I
The sun, less hot, looks from a sky more clear;
The roses in their sleepy loveliness
Nod to the cradling wind. The atmosphere
Enfolds us with a sister's tenderness.
The Bridal Of Lady Aideen
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
O Lady Aideen, will you wed with me, wed with me in the early morning?
A silken gown for your body's wear, a golden crown for your hair's adorning.
The Letters
© Alfred Tennyson
Still on the tower stood the vane,
A black yew gloomed the stagnant air,
The Faithful Guardian
© Caroline Norton
Two beautiful and rosy babes are pictured here alone,
Two infants of a noble race, as any near the throne:--
And, in the cradle's shadow, lies a stately-looking hound,
His fine limbs full of strength and grace, couched humbly on the ground:
Memory
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
If I ever go back to Baltimore,
The city of Maryland,
I shall miss again as I missed before
A thousand things of the world in store,
The story standing in every door
That beckons with every hand.
A Dream In A Gondola
© Richard Monckton Milnes
I had a dream of waters: I was borne
Fast down the slimy tide
Of eldest Nile, and endless flats forlorn
Stretched out on either side,--
Eight Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
Prophet of God, arise and take
With thee the words of wrath divine,
The scourge of Heaven, to shake
O'er yon apostate shrine.
The Bear At The Dump
© William Matthews
Amidst the too much that we buy and throw
away and the far too much we wrap it in,
To Mother Venus
© Eugene Field
O mother Venus, quit, I pray,
Your violent assailing!
The arts, forsooth, that fired my youth
At last are unavailing;
My blood runs cold, I'm getting old,
And all my powers are failing.
What The Poet Was Telling Himself In 1848
© Victor Marie Hugo
You mustn't seek out power, mustn't grab the helm
Your work lies elsewhere, spirit of another realm,
Georgic 3
© Publius Vergilius Maro
Thee too, great Pales, will I hymn, and thee,
Amphrysian shepherd, worthy to be sung,
Amoris Finis
© George Frederick Cameron
AND now I go with the departing sun:
My day is dead and all my work is done.
