Love poems

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The Maiden's Prayer

© Edith Nesbit

SPRING, pretty Spring, what treasure do you bring to me?
Green grass and buttercups, cherry-bloom and may?
Sunshine to be glad with me, and little birds to sing to me?
Warm nests to call me along the woodland way?

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Before Actium.

© Robert Crawford

Life is up and takes the morning;
Why should love still lie abed?
Lo! the charms of slumber scorning,
Tramps the troop that must be led.

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The Sunset Thoughts Of A Dying Child

© Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon

Friends! do you see in yon sunset sky,
  That cloud of crimson bright?
Soon will its gorgeous colors die
  In coming dim twilight;
E’en now it fadeth ray by ray—
Like it I too shall pass away!

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Chalkey Hall

© John Greenleaf Whittier

Oh, once again revive, while on my ear
The cry of Gain
And low hoarse hum of Traffic die away,
Ye blessed memories of my early day
Like sere grass wet with rain!

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Testament

© Dorothy Parker

Kinder the busy worms than ever love;
It will be peace to lie there, empty-eyed,
My bed made secret by the leveling showers,
My breast replenishing the weeds above.
And you will say of me, "Then has she died?
Perhaps I should have sent a spray of flowers."

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A Sailor's Life

© Harry Kemp

Oh, a sailor hasn't much to brag -
An oilskin suit and a dunnage bag.
But, howsoever humble he be,
By the Living God, he has the sea!

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The Song Of The Highest Tower

© Arthur Rimbaud

I told myself: wait
And let no one see:
And without the promise
Of true ecstasy.
Let nothing delay
This hiding away.

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The Lay of the Last Minstrel: Canto IV.

© Sir Walter Scott

I

Sweet Teviot! on thy silver tide

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The Elfin Artist

© Alfred Noyes

In a glade of an elfin forest

When Sussex was Eden-new,

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Jack Cornstalk as a Lover

© Henry Lawson

“For he rides hard to dull the pain,
Who rides from him who loves him best;
But he rides slowly home again,
Whose restless heart must rove for rest.

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The Dwellings Of Our Dead.

© Arthur Henry Adams

THEY lie unwatched, in waste and vacant places,
In sombre bush or wind-swept tussock spaces,
Where seldom human tread
And never human trace is —

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A Hymn For Christmas Morning

© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

IT is the Christmas time:
And up and down 'twixt heaven and earth,
In glorious grief and solemn mirth,
The shining angels climb.

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She Was A Phantom Of Delight

© William Wordsworth

  She was a Phantom of delight

  When first she gleamed upon my sight;

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Content, To My Dearest Lucasia

© Katherine Philips

Content, the false World's best disguise,
The search and faction of the Wise,
Is so abstruse and hid in night,
That, like that Fairy Red-cross Knight,
Who trech'rous Falshood for clear Truth had got,
Men think they have it when they have it not.

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Sonnet On An Edelweiss

© Frances Anne Kemble

Where huge rock buttresses bear up the clouds,

  With all their floating reservoirs of rain;

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We Talk Of Taxes, And I Call You Friend

© Edna St. Vincent Millay

We talk of taxes, and I call you friend;

Well, such you are,—but well enough we know

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The Truce of Piscataqua

© John Greenleaf Whittier

"Let your ears be opened wide!
He who speaks has never lied.
Waldron of Piscataqua,
Hear what Squando has to say!

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Victory

© Rupert Brooke

Oh, perfect from the ultimate height of living,
Lightly we turned, through wet woods blossom-hung,
Into the open.  Down the supernal roads,
With plumes a-tossing, purple flags far flung,
Rank upon rank, unbridled, unforgiving,
Thundered the black battalions of the Gods.

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Finis

© Dorothy Parker

Now it's over, and now it's done;

 Why does everything look the same?

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Love’s Likenings

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

He.
To what, love, shall I liken thee?
Thou, methinks, shalt firstly be
A blue flower with nodding bells