Love poems
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On The Death Of A Young Lady
© George Gordon Byron
Hush'd are the winds, and still the evening gloom,
Not e'en a zephyr wanders through the grove,
Whilst I return, to view my Margaret's tomb,
And scatter flowers on the dust I love.
When You See Millions Of The Mouthless Dead
© Charles Hamilton Sorley
When you see millions of the mouthless dead
Across your dreams in pale battalions go,
Say not soft things as other men have said,
That you'll remember. For you need not so.
Clothed In Beauty
© Vyacheslav Ivanovich Ivanov
As if chiseled, a fruit-laden branch
Hangs in my garden, asleep - so low…
The trees sleep - and dream? - in moonlight;
And the mystery of their life is near, near…
A Supplication
© Abraham Cowley
Awake, awake, my Lyre!
And tell thy silent master's humble tale
In sounds that may prevail;
Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire:
Sonnet LVI: When Like an Eaglet
© Michael Drayton
When like an eaglet I first found my Love,
For that the virtue I thereof would know,
Upon the nest I set it forth to prove
If it were of that kingly kind or no;
Sonnet XXXVI: Thou Purblind Boy
© Michael Drayton
Cupid ConjuredThou purblind boy, since thou hast been so slack
To wound her heart, whose eyes have wounded me,
And suffer'd her to glory in my wrack,
Thus to my aid I lastly conjure thee:
Sonnet LV: My Fair, If Thou Wilt
© Michael Drayton
My Fair, if thou wilt register my love,
A world of volumes shall thereof arise;
Preserve my tears, and thou thyself shalt prove
A second flood, down-raining from mine eyes.
Sonnet XII: That Learned Father
© Michael Drayton
To the SoulThat learned Father, who so firmly proves
The Soul of man immortal and divine,
And doth the several offices define:
Anima - Gives her that name, as she the Body moves;
Sonnet XL: My Heart the Anvil
© Michael Drayton
My heart the anvil where my thoughts do beat;
My words the hammers fashioning my desire;
My breast the forge including all the heat;
Love is the fuel which maintains the fire;
Sonnet XLI: Why Do I Speak of Joy
© Michael Drayton
Love's LunacyWhy do I speak of joy, or write of love,
When my heart is the very den of horror,
And in my soul the pains of Hell I prove,
With all his torments and infernal terror?
Sonnet XLIX: Thou Leaden Brain
© Michael Drayton
Thou leaden brain, which censur'st what I write,
And say'st my lines be dull and do not move,
I marvel not thou feel'st not my delight,
Which never felt'st my fiery touch of love.
Sonnet XXXI: Methinks I See
© Michael Drayton
To the CriticMethinks I see some crooked mimic jeer,
And tax my Muse with this fantastic grace,
Turning my papers asks, "What have we here?"
Making withal some filthy antic face.
Sonnet X: To Nothing Fitter
© Michael Drayton
To nothing fitter can I thee compare
Than to the son of some rich penny-father,
Who, having now brought on his end with care,
Leaves to his son all he had heap'd together;
Sonnet LVII: You Best Discern'd
© Michael Drayton
You best discern'd of my mind's inward eyes,
And yet your graces outwardly divine,
Whose dear remembrance in my bosom lies,
Too rich a relic for so poor a shrine;
My Honey, My Love
© Joel Chandler Harris
De Bully-Bat fly mighty close ter de groun',
My honey, my love!
Mister Fox, he coax 'er, Do come down!
My honey, my love!
Sonnet XXVIII: To Such As Say
© Michael Drayton
To such as say thy love I overprize,
And do not stick to term my praises folly,
Against these folks, that think themselves so wise,
I thus oppose my Reason's forces wholly,
Summer By The Lakeside: Lake Winnipesaukee
© John Greenleaf Whittier
I. NOON.
White clouds, whose shadows haunt the deep,
Light mists, whose soft embraces keep
The sunshine on the hills asleep!
Sonnet VIII: There's Nothing Grieves Me
© Michael Drayton
There's nothing grieves me, but that Age should haste,
That in my days I may not see thee old,
That where those two clear sparkling eyes are plac'd
Only two loop-holes then I might behold;
Sonnet XV: Since to Obtain Thee
© Michael Drayton
His Remedy for LoveSince to obtain thee nothing will be stead,
I have a med'cine that shall cure my love,
The powder of her heart dried, when she is dead,
That gold nor honor ne'er had power to move,
