Love poems

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In this noble ring to-dayLet my warning shame ye!
Listen to my solemn voice,--Seldom does it name ye.
Many a thing have ye intended,Many a thing have badly ended,
And now I must blame ye.At some moment in our livesWe must all repent us!

A Confession

© Agnes Louise Storrie

You did not know, - how could you, dear, -

How much you stood for? Life in you

Growth.

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

O'ER field and plain, in childhood's artless days,

Noonday By The Seaside

© Frances Anne Kemble

The sea has left the strand
In their deep sapphire cup
The waves lie gathered up,
Off the hard-ribbed sand.

The Plums Tasted

© Mirabai

The plums tasted

sweet to the unlettered desert-tribe girl-

Charade.

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Two words there are, both short, of beauty rare,

Ode To The Departing Year

© Samuel Taylor Coleridge

I.
Spirit who sweepest the wild harp of Time!
It is most hard, with an untroubled ear
Thy dark inwoven harmonies to hear!

Ergo Bibamus!

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Remember then: ERGO BIBAMUS!
In truth 'tis an old, 'tis an excellent word,
With its sound so befitting each bosom is stirr'd,
And an echo the festal hall filling is heard,

" by William Shakespeare">Sonnet 105: "Let not my love be called idolatry,..."

© William Shakespeare

Let not my love be called idolatry,

Nor my beloved as an idol show,

Googly-Goo

© Eugene Field

Of mornings, bright and early,

When the lark is on the wing

What Spain Was Like

© Pablo Neruda

All your confinement, your animal isolation
While you are still conscious
Surrounded by the abstract stones of silence,
Your rough wine, your smooth wine
Your violent and dangerous vineyards.

By The River.

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

FLOW on, ye lays so loved, so fair,

Blow, Bugle, Blow

THE splendour falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story:
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.

The Rat-catcher.

I AM the bard known far and wide,
The travell'd rat-catcher beside;
A man most needful to this town,
So glorious through its old renown.

The Beautiful Night.

Now I leave this cottage lowly,Where my love hath made her home,
And with silent footstep slowlyThrough the darksome forest roam,
Luna breaks through oaks and bushes,Zephyr hastes her steps to meet,
And the waving birch-tree blushes,Scattering round her incense sweet.Grateful are the cooling breezesOf this beauteous summer night,

Restless Love.

THROUGH rain, through snow,
Through tempest go!
'Mongst streaming caves,
O'er misty waves,
On, on! still on!
Peace, rest have flown!

The Wedding Night.

WITHIN the chamber, far awayFrom the glad feast, sits Love in dread
Lest guests disturb, in wanton play,The silence of the bridal bed.
His torch's pale flame serves to gildThe scene with mystic sacred glow;
The room with incense-clouds is fil'd,That ye may perfect rapture know.How beats thy heart, when thou dost hearThe chime that warns thy guests to fly!