Love poems
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Lines To A Lady, on Hearing Her Sing
© Joseph Rodman Drake
Yes! heaven protect thee, thou gem of the ocean;
Dear land of my sires, though distant thy shores;
Ere my heart cease to love thee, its latest emotion,
The last dying throbs of its pulse must be o'er.
Cassandra
© Hilda Doolittle
O Hymen king. Hymen, O Hymen king,
what bitter thing is this?
what shaft, tearing my heart?
what scar, what light, what fire
At Ithaca
© Hilda Doolittle
Over and back,
the long waves crawl
and track the sand with foam;
night darkens, and the sea
At Baia
© Hilda Doolittle
"Flower sent to flower;
for white hands, the lesser white,
less lovely of flower-leaf,"
Adonis
© Hilda Doolittle
each of us like you
has died once,
each of us like you
stands apart, like you
fit to be worshipped.
A Bronte Legend
© Lesbia Harford
They say she was a creature of the moor,
A lover of the angels, silence bound.
She sought no friendships. She was too remote,
Her sister Charlotte found.
To The One Upstairs
© Charles Simic
Boss of all bosses of the universe.
Mr. know-it-all, wheeler-dealer, wire-puller,
And whatever else you're good at.
Go ahead, shuffle your zeros tonight.
Dip in ink the comets' tails.
Staple the night with starlight.
Ballade Of The Dream
© Andrew Lang
Sleep, that giv'st what Life denies,
Shadowy bounties and supreme,
Bring the dearest face that flies
Following darkness like a dream!
The Adieu
© Louisa Stuart Costello
We part, and thou art mine no more!
I go through seas never sought before,
When the Irish Flag Went By
© Henry Lawson
TWAS Eight-Hour Day, and proudly
Old Labour led the way;
The Initiate
© Charles Simic
St. John of the Cross wore dark glasses
As he passed me on the street.
St. Theresa of Avila, beautiful and grave,
Turned her back on me.
Paradise Motel
© Charles Simic
Millions were dead; everybody was innocent.
I stayed in my room. The President
Spoke of war as of a magic love potion.
My eyes were opened in astonishment.
In a mirror my face appeared to me
Like a twice-canceled postage stamp.
This Morning
© Charles Simic
Enter without knocking, hard-working ant.
I'm just sitting here mulling over
What to do this dark, overcast day?
It was a night of the radio turned down low,
The Pool
© Paul Laurence Dunbar
By the pool that I see in my dreams, dear love,
I have sat with you time and again;
And listened beneath the dank leaves, dear love,
To the sibilant sound of the rain.
Hotel Insomnia
© Charles Simic
I liked my little hole,
Its window facing a brick wall.
Next door there was a piano.
A few evenings a month
a crippled old man came to play
"My Blue Heaven."
Mariana In The North
© Victoria Mary Sackville-West
All her youth is gone, her beautiful youth outworn,
Daughter of tarn and tor, the moors that were once her home
No longer know her step on the upland tracks forlorn
Where she was wont to roam.
Clouds Gathering
© Charles Simic
It seemed the kind of life we wanted.
Wild strawberries and cream in the morning.
Sunlight in every room.
The two of us walking by the sea naked.
Ode to Melancholy
© Thomas Hood
Come, let us set our careful breasts,
Like Philomel, against the thorn,
To aggravate the inward grief,
That makes her accents so forlorn;
Death of the Stag
© James Thomson
The stag, too, singled from the herd, where long
He ranged, the branching monarch of the shade,
Before the tempest drives. At first, in speed
He, sprightly, puts his faith, and, roused by fear,
