Love poems
/ page 848 of 1285 /The House Of Dust: Part 02: 03
© Conrad Aiken
The warm sun dreams in the dust, the warm sun falls
On bright red roofs and walls;
The Wish Of To-Day
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I ask not now for gold to gild
With mocking shine a weary frame;
The yearning of the mind is stilled,
I ask not now for Fame.
November
© Robert Nichols
Oozed from the bracken's desolate track,
By dark rains havocked and drenched black.
A fog about the coppice drifts,
Or slowly thickens up and lifts
Into the moist, despondent air.
Our Life
© Paul Eluard
Well not reach the goal one by one but in pairs
We know in pairs we will know all about us
Well love everything our children will smile
At the dark history or mourn alone
The Towers of Time
© Gilbert Keith Chesterton
(There is never a crack in the ivory tower
Or a hinge to groan in the house of gold
Or a leaf of the rose in the wind to wither
And she grows young as the world grows old.
A Woman clothed with the sun returning
to clothe the sun when the sun is cold.)
In The Harbour: The Poet's Calendar
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Janus am I; oldest of potentates;
Forward I look, and backward, and below
I count, as god of avenues and gates,
The years that through my portals come and go.
A Surrender
© Kenneth Slessor
WHEN to those Venusbergs, thy breasts,
By wars of love and moonlight batteries,
My lips have stormedO pout thy mouth above,
Lean down those culverins twain, and bid me spike
Sonnet 52: A Strife Is Grown
© Sir Philip Sidney
A strife is grown between Virtue and Love,
While each pretends that Stella must be his:
Her eyes, her lips, her all, saith Love, do this
Since they do wear his badge, most firmly prove.
A Poem For The Meeting Of The American Medical Association At New York, May 5, 1853
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
I HOLD a letter in my hand,-
A flattering letter, more's the pity,-
The Tryst
© Walter de la Mare
A music wistful for the sea-nymph's sake:
Haply Elijah, o'er his spokes of fire,
Cresting steep Leo, or the heavenly Lyre,
Spied, tranced in azure of inanest space,
Some eyrie hostel, meet for human grace,
Where two might happy be just you and I
The New Moon
© Sara Teasdale
DAY, you have bruised and beaten me,
As rain beats down the bright, proud sea,
Beaten my body, bruised my soul,
Left me nothing lovely or whole
The Song Of The Violin
© Roderic Quinn
SHE stood in the curtains played over by light
The tinted curtains a tired, sweet girl,
With exquisite arms under laces of white
Like an ivory figure in mother-of-pearl.
An Image From A Past Life
© William Butler Yeats
He. Never until this night have I been stirred.
The elaborate starlight throws a reflection
The Empty Bowl
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
I held the golden vessel of my soul
And prayed that God would fill it from on high.
Wedding Day
© Edith Nesbit
The enchanted hour,
The magic bower,
Where, crowned with roses,
Love love discloses.
An Idyll
© Coventry Kersey Dighton Patmore
And even our women, lastly grumbles Ben,
Leaving their nature, dress and talk like men!