Love poems
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The Eve Of All-Saints
© Madison Julius Cawein
This is the tale they tell,
Of an Hallowe'en;
This is the thing that befell
Me and the village Belle,
Beautiful Aimee Dean.
To Hope
© Thomas Hood
Oh! take, young Seraph, take thy harp,
And play to me so cheerily;
For grief is dark, and care is sharp,
And life wears on so wearily.
Absence
© Thomas William Heney
But if I come thy choice should be
Either to love or not
For if I might I would not kiss
And then be all forgot;
And it were best thy love to lose
If love self-scorn begot.
A Vine-Arbour In The Far West
© Jean Ingelow
Laura, my Laura! 'Yes, mother!' 'I want you, Laura; come down.'
'What is it, mother-what, dearest? O your loved face how it pales!
You tremble, alas and alas-you heard bad news from the town?'
'Only one short half hour to tell it. My poor courage fails-
Greatness
© Charles Harpur
That man is truly great, and he alone
Who venerates, of present things or past
Sonnett - IX
© James Russell Lowell
My Love, I have no fear that thou shouldst die;
Albeit I ask no fairer life than this,
The Maids Of Attitash
© John Greenleaf Whittier
In sky and wave the white clouds swam,
And the blue hills of Nottingham
Through gaps of leafy green
Across the lake were seen,
Ben Nevis: A Dialogue
© John Keats
There was one Mrs. Cameron of 50 years of age and the fattest woman in all Inverness-shire who got up this Mountain some few years ago -- true she had her servants -- but then she had her self. She ought to have hired Sisyphus, -- "Up the high hill he heaves a huge round -- Mrs. Cameron." 'Tis said a little conversation took place between the mountain and the Lady. After taking a glass of W[h]iskey as she was tolerably seated at ease she thus began --
Mrs. C.
The Poets Choice
© Caroline Norton
I.
'Twas in youth, that hour of dreaming;
Round me, visions fair were beaming,
Golden fancies, brightly gleaming,
Flower O The Peach
© Alice Guerin Crist
When I came down Toowoomba streets,
The evening air was full of sweets,
Of Springtime odours vague and faint,
The Sisters Of Charity
© Arthur Rimbaud
That bright-eyed and brown-skinned youth,
The fine twenty-year body that should go naked,
That, brow circled with copper, under the moon,
An unknown Persian Genie would have worshipped;
I Love All Beauteous Things
© Robert Seymour Bridges
I love all beauteous things,
I seek and adore them;
God hath no better praise,
And man in his hasty days
Is honoured for them.
Temps Perdu
© Dorothy Parker
I never may turn the loop of a road
Where sudden, ahead, the sea is Iying,
But my heart drags down with an ancient load-
My heart, that a second before was flying.
The Solitary
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
I.
Darst thou amid the varied multitude
To live alone, an isolated thing?
To see the busy beings round thee spring,
I Would I Were A Careless Child
© George Gordon Byron
I would I were a careless child,
Still dwelling in my highland cave,
