Love poems
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The Coming Era
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THEY tell us that the Muse is soon to fly hence,
Leaving the bowers of song that once were dear,
Her robes bequeathing to her sister, Science,
The groves of Pindus for the axe to clear.
Ave Maria
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
In the darkness of the night I wake and weep,
Ave Maria, hear my cry!
All that I am not drives my soul from sleep,
Ave Maria, hear my cry!
On Looking Into The Eyes Of A Demon Lover
© Sylvia Plath
Here are two pupils
whose moons of black
transform to cripples
all who look:
The Gift
© Bliss William Carman
I SAID to Life, "How comes it,
With all this wealth in store,
Of beauty, joy, and knowledge,
Thy cry is still for more?
Der Asra
© Heinrich Heine
Every day so lovely, shining,
Up and down, the Sultans daughter
Walked at evening by the water,
Where the white fountain splashes.
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 126.
© Alfred Tennyson
Love is and was my Lord and King,
And in his presence I attend
Flower of Love
© Oscar Wilde
Sweet, I blame you not, for mine the fault was, had I not been made of common
clay
I had climbed the higher heights unclimbed yet, seen the fuller air, the
larger day.
Trivia ; or, the Art of Walking the Streets of London : Book II.
© John Gay
Of Walking the Streets by Day.
Thus far the Muse has trac'd in useful lays
The Love Of God The End Of Life
© William Cowper
Since life in sorrow must be spent,
So be it--I am well content,
And meekly wait my last remove,
Seeking only growth in love.
Sonnet 72: O lest the world should task you to recite
© William Shakespeare
O lest the world should task you to recite,
What merit lived in me that you should love
"She sat upon the floor..."
© Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
She sat upon the floor
Looking through a pile of letters,
Mummy Wheat
© Edith Nesbit
LAID close to Death, these many thousand years,
In this small seed Life hid herself and smiled;
So well she hid, Death was at least beguiled,
Set free the grain--and lo! the sevenfold ears!
On a Baby Buried by the Hawkesbury
© Henry Kendall
A grace that was lent for a very few hours,
By the bountiful Spirit above us;
Outside The Village Church
© Alfred Austin
``The old Church doors stand open wide,
Though neither bells nor anthems peal.
Gazing so fondly from outside,
Why do you enter not and kneel?
The Last Reader
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
I sometimes sit beneath a tree
And read my own sweet songs;
Though naught they may to others be,
Each humble line prolongs
A tone that might have passed away
But for that scarce remembered lay.
There Is A Wheel Inside My Head
© William Ernest Henley
There is a wheel inside my head
Of wantonness and wine,
An old, cracked fiddle is begging without,
But the wind with scents of the sea is fed,
And the sun seems glad to shine.
The Lamb Skin
© Edgar Albert Guest
It is not ornamental, the cost is not great,
There are other things far more useful, yet truly I state,
Though of all my possesions, there's none can compare,
With that white leather apron, which all Masons wear.
