Love poems
/ page 887 of 1285 /
Genesis BK XI
© Caedmon
ll. 442-460) Then God's enemy began to make him ready, equipped
in war-gear, with a wily heart. He set his helm of darkness on
Anti-Apis
© James Russell Lowell
Praisest Law, friend? We, too, love it much as they that love it best;
'Tis the deep, august foundation, whereon Peace and Justice rest;
On the rock primeval, hidden in the Past its bases be,
Block by block the endeavoring Ages built it up to what we see.
When You Come Home
© Katharine Tynan
All will be right when you come home, dear lad,
But oh, 'tis long of coming that you are!
The Whirlwind Road
© Edwin Markham
THE MUSES wrapped in mysteries of light
Came in a rush of music on the night;
Nathan The Wise - Act V
© Gotthold Ephraim Lessing
Here lies the money still, and no one finds
The dervis yet--he's probably got somewhere
Over a chess-board. Play would often make
The man forget himself, and why not, me.
Patience--Ha! what's the matter.
The Sea-Mew
© Dora Sigerson Shorter
I had loved the pretty birds that by my window sung
The gentle thrush that had his nest the perfumed pines among;
The chaffinch with his sudden note, his song so clear and bold;
The sad rhyme of the robin, too, that came when winds grew cold;
Sonnet XLIII: How Do I Love Thee?
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
Summer Gone
© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
SMALL wren, mute pecking at the last red plum
Or twittering idly at the yellowing boughs
Fruit-emptied, over thy forsaken house,--
Birdie, that seems to come
Telling, we too have spent our little store,
Our summer's o'er:
The Voice
© Rupert Brooke
Safe in the magic of my woods
I lay, and watched the dying light.
Faint in the pale high solitudes,
And washed with rain and veiled by night,
Little Green Buttons
© Sheldon Allan Silverstein
The honeymoon ended a decade ago,
If he still loves her he don't say so,
So she's taking her blues to the House af Tattoos,
Getting little green buttons on her birthday suit.
Old Spense
© Isabella Valancy Crawford
You've seen his place, I reckon, friend?
'Twas rather kind ov tryin'.
The way he made the dollars fly,
Such gimcrack things a-buyin'--
He spent a big share ov a fortin'
On pesky things that went a snortin'
The Last Of The Flock
© William Wordsworth
I
IN distant countries have I been,
And yet I have not often seen
A healthy man, a man full grown,
The Paphian Venus
© Madison Julius Cawein
With anxious eyes and dry, expectant lips,
Within the sculptured stoa by the sea,
All day she waited while, like ghostly ships,
Long clouds rolled over Paphos: the wild bee
Hung in the sultry poppy, half asleep,
Beside the shepherd and his drowsy sheep.
The Two Coffins
© Eugene Field
In yonder old cathedral
Two lovely coffins lie;
In one, the head of the state lies dead,
And a singer sleeps hard by.
The Hermit Thrush
© Henry Van Dyke
O wonderful! How liquid clear
The molten gold of that ethereal tone,
The Young Rat And His Dam, The Cock And The Cat
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
I paus'd a while, to meditate a Speech,
And now was stepping just within his reach;
When that rude Clown began his hect'ring Cry,
And made me for my Life, and from th' Attempt to fly.
Indeed 'twas Time, the shiv'ring Beldam said,
To scour the Plain, and be of Life afraid.
