Love poems

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Hymn of Praise

© Henry Kendall

Encompassed by the psalm of hill and stream,
By hymns august with their majestic theme,
Here in the evening of exalted days
To Thee, our Friend, we bow with breath of praise.

And Johnny beats the wee ones, the small ones, the weak ones,
He takes their playthings from them in the name of liberty.
When Johnny gets a whacking, a whacking, a whacking,
When Johnny gets a whacking, I think he'll let me be,
And I shall have my penny, my penny, my penny,
And I shall buy a bright flag to wave in victory.

Ellen Irwin Or The Braes Of Kirtle

© William Wordsworth

FAIR Ellen Irwin, when she sate
Upon the braes of Kirtle,
Was lovely as a Grecian maid
Adorned with wreaths of myrtle;

Thy Will Be Done

© John Greenleaf Whittier

WE see not, know not; all our way

Is night, with Thee alone is day:

Antagonists.

© Arthur Henry Adams

WHAT though the neutral sea sever us twain?
In the still night your soul in mine I take;
Your eyes, hilarious with passion, wake,
And love's delirium is mine again,

The Borough. Letter II: The Church

© George Crabbe

"WHAT is a Church?"--Let Truth and Reason speak,

They would reply, "The faithful, pure, and meek;

The Stockmen of Australia

© Anonymous

The stockmen of Australia, what rowdy boys are they,
They will curse and swear a hurricane if you come in their way.
They dash along the forest on black, bay, brown, or grey,
And the stockmen of Australia, hard-riding boys are they.

The Games We Used To Play

© George Ade

I long and sigh for the days gone by,
I pine for the rustic charm
Of the dear old games, the queer old games
We played down on the farm.

Ode

© Benjamin Jonson

To the Immortal Memory and Friendship of that Noble Pair, Sir Lucius

Cary and Sir Henry Morison.

To ----, With A Rose

© Sidney Lanier

I asked my heart to say
Some word whose worth my love's devoir might pay
Upon my Lady's natal day.

Winifred Waters

© John Daniel Logan

WINIFRED WATERS, when I look on you now,

With the sweet peace of God on your beautiful brow

"Your marvelous pronunciation"

© Osip Emilevich Mandelstam

Your marvelous pronunciation --
The scorching whistle of birds of prey;
Or should I say: a living impression
Of some sort of silken eyelashes.

Sonnet XXIII: Is It Indeed So?

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Is it indeed so? If I lay here dead,

Wouldst thou miss any life in losing mine?

To my honoured Friend Mr. George Sandys

© Henry King

It is, Sir, a confest intrusion here
That I before your labours do appear,
Which no loud Herald need, that may proclaim
Or seek acceptance, but the Authors fame.