Love poems
/ page 908 of 1285 /
The Destruction Of Magdeburg.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
[For a fine account of the fearful sack of Magdeburg,
by Tilly, in the year 1613, see SCHILLER's History of the Thirty
Years' War.]
From The Mountain.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
[Written just after the preceding one, on a
mountain overlooking the Lake of Zurich.]
The Doubters And The Lovers
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
But we are on the proper road alone!
If gladly is to thaw the frozen soul,
The fire of love must aye be kept alive.
So We'll Go No More A-Roving
© George Gordon Byron
So we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart still be as loving,
And the moon still be as bright.
Love's Distresses.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
WHO will hear me? Whom shall I lament to?
Who would pity me that heard my sorrows?
Ah, the lip that erst so many raptures
Used to taste, and used to give responsive,
The Drops Of Nectar.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
To a happy end they tasted,
They, and other gentle insects!
For with mortals now divide they
Art?that noblest gift of all.
The Friendly Meeting.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Lovingly I'll sing of love;
Ever comes she from above.THE FRIENDLY MEETING.IN spreading mantle to my chin conceald,I trod the rocky path, so steep and grey,Then to the wintry plain I bent my way
Uneasily, to flight my bosom steel'd.But sudden was the newborn day reveal'd:A maiden came, in heavenly bright array,Like the fair creatures of the poet's lay
In realms of song. My yearning heart was heal'd.Yet turn'd I thence, till she had onward pass'd,While closer still the folds to draw I tried, As though with heat self-kindled to grow warm;But follow'd her. She stood. The die was cast!No more within my mantle could I hide; I threw it off,--she lay within mine arm. 1807-8.
Lily's Menagerie.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
[Goethe describes this much-admired Poem, which
he wrote in honour of his love Lily, as being "designed to change
his surrender of her into despair, by drolly-fretful images."]
To The Lamented Memory Of F. H. C.
© John Kenyon
Sweet friend, farewell! to whom propitious birth
Gave beautysensethe prosperous goods of earth;
Mischievous Joy.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
AS a butterfly renew'd,When in life I breath'd my last,To the spots my flight I wing,Scenes of heav'nly rapture past,Over meadows, to the spring,
Round the hill, and through the wood.Soon a tender pair I spy,And I look down from my seatOn the beauteous maiden's head--When embodied there I meetAll I lost as soon as dead,
Happy as before am I.Him she clasps with silent smile,And his mouth the hour improves,Sent by kindly Deities;First from breast to mouth it roves,Then from mouth to hands it flies,
And I round him sport the while.And she sees me hov'ring near;Trembling at her lovers rapture,Up she springs--I fly away,"Dearest! let's the insect captureCome! I long to make my prey
A Girl's Sin - In Her Eyes
© Francis Thompson
Cross child! red, and frowning so?
'I, the day just over,
Gave a lock of hair to--no!
How DARE you say, my lover?'
The Song of the Camp
© James Bayard Taylor
GIVE us a song! the soldiers cried,
The outer trenches guarding,
When the heated guns of the camps allied
Grew weary of bombarding.
The Wanderer's Storm-song.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Him whom thou ne'er leavest, Genius,
Thou wilt place upon thy fleecy pinion
When he sleepeth on the rock,--
Thou wilt shelter with thy guardian wing
In the forest's midnight hour.
To The Distant One.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
AND have I lost thee evermore?Hast thou, oh fair one, from me flown?
Still in mine ear sounds, as of yore,Thine ev'ry word, thine ev'ry tone.As when at morn the wand'rer's eyeAttempts to pierce the air in vain,
When, hidden in the azure sky,The lark high o'er him chaunts his strain:So do I cast my troubled gazeThrough bush, through forest, o'er the lea;
Thou art invoked by all my lays;Oh, come then, loved one, back to me!1789.*
To Belinda.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
[This song was also written for Lily. Goethe
mentions, at the end of his Autobiography, that he overheard her
singing it one evening after he had taken his last farewell of her.]
To Francis Beaumont
© Benjamin Jonson
How I do love thee, Beaumont, and thy muse,
That unto me dost such religion use!
The Tunnel
© Robert Laurence Binyon
Sitting with strangers in the hurrying train,
We spoke not to each other. Golden May
Flooded those warm fields greener from the rain,
Then sudden darkness stole it all away.
A Triad
© Christina Georgina Rossetti
Three sang of love together: one with lips
Crimson, with cheeks and bosom in a glow,
November Song.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
To the great archer--not to himTo meet whom flies the sun,
And who is wont his features dimWith clouds to overrun--But to the boy be vow'd these rhymes,Who 'mongst the roses plays,
Who hear us, and at proper timesTo pierce fair hearts essays.Through him the gloomy winter night,Of yore so cold and drear,
Brings many a loved friend to our sight,And many a woman dear.Henceforward shall his image fairStand in yon starry skies,
