Love poems
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Lara
© Lord Byron
Proud Otho on the instant, reddening, threw
His glove on earth, and forth his sabre flew.
"The last alternative befits me best,
And thus I answer for mine absent guest."
Silent Love. (From The German)
© Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Who love would seek,
Let him love evermore
Ode to Napoleon Bonaparte
© Lord Byron
I
'Tis done -- but yesterday a King!
And arm'd with Kings to strive --
And now thou art a nameless thing:
Sonnet XII: Indeed This Very Love
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Indeed this very love which is my boast,
And which, when rising up from breast to brow,
To A Lady
© Lord Byron
O! had my Fate been join'd with thine,
As once this pledge appear'd a token,
These follies had not, then, been mine,
For, then, my peace had not been broken.
Euthanasia
© Lord Byron
When Time, or soon or late, shall bring
The dreamless sleep that lulls the dead,
Oblivion! may thy languid wing
Wave gently o'er my dying bed!
The Tear
© Lord Byron
When Friendship or Love
Our sympathies move;
When Truth, in a glance, should appear,
The lips may beguile,
With a dimple or smile,
But the test of affection's a Tear:
Lines Written Beneath An Elm In The Churchyard Of Harrow
© Lord Byron
Spot of my youth! whose hoary branches sigh,
Swept by the breeze that fans thy cloudless sky;
Where now alone I muse, who oft have trod,
With those I loved, thy soft and verdant sod;
So You Want To Be A Writer
© Charles Bukowski
if you first have to read it to your wife
or your girlfriend or your boyfriend
or your parents or to anybody at all,
you're not ready.
Lines, On Hearing That Lady Byron Was Ill
© Lord Byron
And thou wert sadyet I was not with thee!
And thou wert sick, and yet I was not near;
Methought that joy and health alone could be
Where I was notand pain and sorrow here.
Magnificat
© Edith Nesbit
THIS is Christ's birthday: long ago
He lay upon His Mother's knee,
Who kissed and blessed Him soft and low--
God's gift to her, as you to me.
Stanzas To The Po
© Lord Byron
River, that rollest by the ancient walls,
Where dwells the lady of my love, when she
Walks by thy brink, and there perchance recalls
A faint and fleeting memory of me;
The Owl Describing Her Young Ones
© Anne Kingsmill Finch
Why was that baleful Creature made,
Which seeks our Quiet to invade,
And screams ill Omens through the Shade?
To Thyrza: And Thou Art Dead
© Lord Byron
And thou art dead, as young and fair
As aught of mortal birth;
And form so soft and charm so rare
Too soon returned to Earth!
Stanzas To Augusta
© Lord Byron
When all around grew drear and dark,
And reason half withheld her ray
And hope but shed a dying spark
Which more misled my lonely way;
Lines Inscribed Upon A Cup Formed From A Skull
© Lord Byron
Start notnor deem my spirit fled:
In me behold the only skull
From which, unlike a living head,
Whatever flows is never dull.
To Thomas Moore
© Lord Byron
My boat is on the shore,
And my bark is on the sea;
But, before I go, Tom Moore,
Here's a double health to thee!
On Chillon
© Lord Byron
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind!
Brightest in dungeons, Liberty, thou art;
For there thy habitation is the heart
The heart which love of thee alone can bind;
