Love poems
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The Song Of Graces Of Alle Seintes Upon Paske Day.
© Thomas Hoccleve
HOnured be thu, blisfull lord a-bove, That vowchidsaffë this iourny to take,Man to become, only for man-is love,And deth to suffre, for my synnës sake;So hast thu vs owt of the bondë schake, Of Sathanas, þat held us longe in peyne:Honured be thu, Ihesu souereyne!
Full evele I dede, whan I the appil took; I wend to haue had therbi prosperite;It satte so ny my sidës, þat thei ooke;To greet myschief I fill from hey degre,And alle my issue, for be-cause of me; Now hast þou, lord, restored all a-geyn:Honured be thu, Ihesu souereyne!
The Chapel of the Hermits
© John Greenleaf Whittier
"I do believe, and yet, in grief,
I pray for help to unbelief;
For needful strength aside to lay
The daily cumberings of my way.
Madame Of Dreams
© William Stanley Braithwaite
To John Russell Hayes
KNOW a household made of pure delight,
To The Rev. Mr. Newton : An Invitation Into The Country
© William Cowper
The swallows in their torpid state
Compose their useless wing,
And bees in hives as idly wait
The call of early spring.
Sonnet V "Some Truths There Be Are Better Left Unsaid"
© Henry Timrod
Some truths there be are better left unsaid;
Much is there that we may not speak unblamed.
Walking With God
© John Newton
By faith in Christ I walk with God,
With heav'n, my journeys'-end, in view;
Supported by his staff and rod,
My road is safe and pleasant too,
Bell Birds
© Henry Kendall
By channels of coolness the echoes are calling,
And down the dim gorges I hear the creek falling;
Within and Without: Part III: A Dramatic Poem
© George MacDonald
SCENE I.-Night. London. A large meanly furnished room; a single
candle on the table; a child asleep in a little crib. JULIAN
sits by the table, reading in a low voice out of a book. He looks
older, and his hair is lined with grey; his eyes look clearer.
Mazeppa
© George Gordon Byron
'Twas after dread Pultowa's day,
When fortune left the royal Swede--
Around a slaughtered army lay,
No more to combat and to bleed.
Sonnet VIII. To Mercy
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Not always should the tear's ambrosial dew
Roll its soft anguish down thy furrowed cheek!
Not always heaven-breathed tones of suppliance meek
Beseem thee, Mercy! Yon dark Scowler view,
In Memory: James T. Fields
© John Greenleaf Whittier
As a guest who may not stay
Long and sad farewells to say
Glides with smiling face away,
A Year's Courtship
© Henry Timrod
I saw her, Harry, first, in March -
You know the street that leadeth down
By the old bridge's crumbling arch? -
Just where it leaves the dusty town
A Farewell
© Harriet Monroe
GOOD-BY: nay, do not grieve that it is over
The perfect hour;
That the winged joy, sweet honey-loving rover,
Flits from the flower.
Le Mauvais Moine (The Bad Monk)
© Charles Baudelaire
Les cloîtres anciens sur leurs grandes murailles
Etalaient en tableaux la sainte Vérité,
Dont l'effet réchauffant les pieuses entrailles,
Tempérait la froideur de leur austérité.
The Force Of Prayer, Or, The Founding Of Bolton, A Tradition
© William Wordsworth
"What is good for a bootless bene?"
With these dark words begins my Tale;
And their meaning is, whence can comfort spring
When Prayer is of no avail?
The Test
© Edgar Albert Guest
You can brag about the famous men you know;
You may boast about the great men you have met,
Sonnet LV.
© Charlotte Turner Smith
RETURN OF THE NIGHTINGALE.
Written in May, 1791.
BORNE on the warm wing of the western gale,
How tremulously low is heard to float
The Black Preacher: A Breton Legend
© James Russell Lowell
Something like this, then, my guide had to tell,
Perched on a saint cracked across when he fell;
But since I might chance give his meaning a wrench,
He talking his _patois_ and I English-French,
I'll put what he told me, preserving the tone,
In a rhymed prose that makes it half his, half my own.
Old Santeclaus
© Clement Clarke Moore
Old SANTECLAUS with much delight
His reindeer drives this frosty night,
Oer chimney-tops, and tracks of snow,
To bring his yearly gifts to you.
The Victor Of Antietam
© Herman Melville
When tempest winnowed grain from bran;
And men were looking for a man,
Authority called you to the van,
McClellan:
Along the line the plaudit ran,
As later when Antietam's cheers began.
