Love poems
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The Prophecy Of St. Oran: Part I
© Mathilde Blind
"Earth, earth on the mouth of Oran, that he may blab no more." Gaelic Proverb.
Winter in the Country
© Claude McKay
Sweet life! how lovely to be here
And feel the soft sea-laden breeze
Strike my flushed face, the spruce's fair
Free limbs to see, the lesser trees'
To Winter
© Claude McKay
Stay, season of calm love and soulful snows!
There is a subtle sweetness in the sun,
The ripples on the stream's breast gaily run,
The wind more boisterously by me blows,
To One Coming North
© Claude McKay
At first you'll joy to see the playful snow,
Like white moths trembling on the tropic air,
Or waters of the hills that softly flow
Gracefully falling down a shining stair.
Ad Fabullium. Catul. Lib. I. Ep. 13.
© Richard Lovelace
Caenabis bene, mi Fabulle, apud me
Paucis, si dii tibi favent, diebus;
Si tecum attuleris bonam atque magnam
Caenam, non sine candida puella,
To a Poet
© Claude McKay
There is a lovely noise about your name,
Above the shoutings of the city clear,
More than a moment's merriment, whose claim
Will greater grow with every mellowed year.
Through Agony
© Claude McKay
I All night, through the eternity of night,
Pain was my potion though I could not feel.
Deep in my humbled heart you ground your heel,
Till I was reft of even my inner light,
Knight-Errant
© Madison Julius Cawein
Onward he gallops through enchanted gloom.
The spectres of the forest, dark and dim,
SongThe Winter it is Past
© Robert Burns
The winter it is past, and the summer comes at last
And the small birds, they sing on evry tree;
Now evry thing is glad, while I am very sad,
Since my true love is parted from me.
The White City
© Claude McKay
I will not toy with it nor bend an inch.
Deep in the secret chambers of my heart
I muse my life-long hate, and without flinch
I bear it nobly as I live my part.
The Spanish Needle
© Claude McKay
Lovely dainty Spanish needle
With your yellow flower and white,
Dew bedecked and softly sleeping,
Do you think of me to-night?
The Plateau
© Claude McKay
It was the silver, heart-enveloping view
Of the mysterious sea-line far away,
Seen only on a gleaming gold-white day,
That made it dear and beautiful to you.
The Harlem Dancer
© Claude McKay
Applauding youths laughed with young prostitutes
And watched her perfect, half-clothed body sway;
Her voice was like the sound of blended flutes
Blown by black players upon a picnic day.
Of The Mole In The Ground
© John Bunyan
The mole's a creature very smooth and slick,
She digs i' th' dirt, but 'twill not on her stick;
Summer Morn in New Hampshire
© Claude McKay
All yesterday it poured, and all night long
I could not sleep; the rain unceasing beat
Upon the shingled roof like a weird song,
Upon the grass like running children's feet.
Song. "Pass thy hand through my hair, love"
© Frances Anne Kemble
Pass thy hand through my hair, love;
One little year ago,
Selfish
© Edgar Albert Guest
I am selfish in my wishin' every sort o' joy for you;
I am selfish when I tell you that I'm wishin' skies o' blue
Bending o'er you every minute, and a pocketful of gold,
An' as much of love an' gladness as a human heart can hold.
Coz I know beyond all question that if such a thing could be
As you cornerin' life's riches you would share 'em all with me.
Romance
© Claude McKay
To clasp you now and feel your head close-pressed,
Scented and warm against my beating breast;To whisper soft and quivering your name,
And drink the passion burning in your frame;To lie at full length, taut, with cheek to cheek,
And tease your mouth with kisses till you speakLove words, mad words, dream words, sweet senseless words,
Green Grow The Rashes
© Robert Burns
Chorus: Green grow the rashes, O!
Green grow the rashes, O!
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent amang the lasses, O!
