Love poems
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America To Russia
© Oliver Wendell Holmes
THOUGH watery deserts hold apart
The worlds of East and West,
Still beats the selfsame human heart
In each proud Nation's breast.
The Barbarous Chief
© Wilcox Ella Wheeler
There was a kingdom known as the Mind,
A kingdom vast as fair,
The Poet And The Baby
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
How's a man to write a sonnet, can you tell,--
How's he going to weave the dim, poetic spell,--
When a-toddling on the floor
Is the muse he must adore,
And this muse he loves, not wisely, but too well?
Hearts Chill Between
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
I did not chide him, though I knew
That he was false to me.
Chide the exhaling of the dew,
The ebbing of the sea,
The fading of a rosy hue,
But not inconstancy.
Suffer Little Children, And Forbid Them Not, To Come Unto Me
© Charles Lamb
To Jesus our Saviour some parents presented
Their children-what fears and what hopes they must feel!
When this the disciples would fain have prevented,
Our Saviour reproved their unseasonable zeal.
The Legend Of St. Sophia Of Kioff
© William Makepeace Thackeray
A worthy priest he was and a stout
You've seldom looked on such a one;
For, though he fasted thrice in a week,
Yet nevertheless his skin was sleek;
His waist it spanned two yards about
And he weighed a score of stone.
The One Before The Last
© Rupert Brooke
I dreamt I was in love again
With the One Before the Last,
And smiled to greet the pleasant pain
Of that innocent young past.
The Basset-Table : An Eclogue
© Alexander Pope
Cardelia.
The Basset-Table spread, the Tallier come;
Why stays Smilinda in the Dressing-Room?
Rise, pensive Nymph, the Tallier waits for you:
The Combat. By Etty
© Letitia Elizabeth Landon
THEY fled,--for there was for the brave
Left only a dishonour'd grave.
Aspirations
© Mathilde Blind
I.
I SAW thee in the streets, so wan and pale;
My heart, it shivered at the saddening sight;
Like a thin cloud thou wert, that though the sky doth sail,
And threatens to dissolve, each moment, on its flight.
Child-Songs
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Still linger in our noon of time
And on our Saxon tongue
The echoes of the home-born hymns
The Aryan mothers sung.
The Sleepers
© Walt Whitman
I WANDER all night in my vision,
Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly stepping and
stopping,
Bending with open eyes over the shut eyes of sleepers,
Wandering and confused, lost to myself, ill-assorted, contradictory,
Pausing, gazing, bending, and stopping.
Ultimum
© Francis Thompson
Now in these last spent drops, slow, slower shed,
Love dies, Love dies, Love dies--ah, Love is dead!
A Singing Bird In The City
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
Golden-throated, hath God sent thee for our comfort in the city?
Sweet, sweet! singing, singing all the day.
The One White Hair
© Walter Savage Landor
THE WISEST of the wise
Listen to pretty lies
And love to hear them told;
Doubt not that Solomon
Listend to many a one,
Some in his youth, and more when he grew old.
He Gives His Beloved Certain Rhymes
© William Butler Yeats
Fasten your hair with a golden pin,
And bind up every wandering tress;
I bade my heart build these poor rhymes:
It worked at them, day out, day in,
Building a sorrowful loveliness
Out of the battles of old times.
