Love poems

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Birthday Talk For A Child

© Edith Nesbit

DADDY dear, I'm only four
And I'd rather not be more:
Four's the nicest age to be--
Two and two, or one and three.

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Makin' It Natural

© Sheldon Allan Silverstein

I'm gonna throw my grass out the window
Crumple up my papers too
Give away my speed, Cause all I'm gonna need
Is just a little bit of love from you

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To Seraphina

© James Thomson

The wanton's charms, however bright,

Are like the false illusive light

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On The Death Of Lieutenant-Colonel Buller, Killed In Flanders In 1795

© Richard Brinsley Sheridan

Scarce hush'd the sigh, scarce dried the ling'ring

  tear,

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When As A Lad

© Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

WHEN, as a lad, at break of day
  I watched the fishers sail away,
My thoughts, like flocking birds, would follow
Across the curving sky's blue hollow,
  And on and on--
  Into the very heart of dawn!

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The Old Garden

© George MacDonald

I stood in an ancient garden
With high red walls around;
Over them grey and green lichens
In shadowy arabesque wound.

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Noontide Hymn

© George MacDonald

I love thy skies, thy sunny mists,
Thy fields, thy mountains hoar,
Thy wind that bloweth where it lists-
Thy will, I love it more.

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The Boat On The Serchio

© Percy Bysshe Shelley

Our boat is asleep on Serchio's stream,
Its sails are folded like thoughts in a dream,
The helm sways idly, hither and thither;
Dominic, the boatman, has brought the mast,
And the oars, and the sails; but ’tis sleeping fast,
Like a beast, unconscious of its tether.

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Vitae Summa Brevis Spem Nos Vetat Incohare Longam

© Ernest Christopher Dowson

They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,
 Love and desire and hate:
I think they have no portion in us after
 We pass the gate.

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Venetian Epigrams

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

With such a scroll, which himself richly with life has adorn'd.
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CLASP'D in my arms for ever eagerly hold I my mistress,

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A Weeping Cupid

© Dora Sigerson Shorter

Why, Love! I thought you were gay and fair,

Merry of mien and debonair.

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In Spring, Santa Barbara

© Sara Teasdale

I HAVE been happy two weeks together,
My love is coming home to me,
Gold and silver is the weather
And smooth as lapis is the sea.

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Kha

© Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev

Beautiful lassies, where are you now?
You who don’t answer me anymore
You who forgot all about me;
Left me behind – now my weakened voice
Wakes up the echo in vain.

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The Triumph of Dead : Chap. 1

© Mary Sidney Herbert

That gallant lady, gloriously bright,  

The stately pillar once of worthiness,  

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A Funeral Poem On The Death Of C. E. An Infant Of Twelve Months

© Phillis Wheatley

Through airy roads he wings his instant flight

To purer regions of celestial light;

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The Dream

© Arthur Symons

O, if the world I make

With these eyes be a dream

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"The Memory Of Joys That Are Past." Ossian.

© Felicia Dorothea Hemans

THERE is an hour, a pensive hour;
(And oh! how dear its soothing pow'r!)
It is, when twilight spreads her veil,
And steals along the silent dale;

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Mother And Son

© William Morris

Now sleeps the land of houses,

and dead night holds the street,

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Beauty. Part III.

© Henry James Pye

  'Tis in the mind that Beauty stands confess'd,
  In all the noblest pride of glory dress'd,
  Where virtue's rules the conscious bosom arm,
  There to our eyes she spreads her brightest charm:
  There all her rays, with force collected, shine,
  Proclaim her worth, and speak her race divine. 

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The Romaunt of Margret (excerpts)

© Elizabeth Barrett Browning

“But better loveth he  
 Thy chaliced wine than thy chanted song,  
 And better both than thee,  
  Margret, Margret.”