Love poems
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Before a Painting
© James Weldon Johnson
And over me the sense of beauty fell,
As music over a raptured listener to
The deep-voiced organ breathing out a hymn;
Or as on one who kneels, his beads to tell,
There falls the aureate glory filtered through
The windows in some old cathedral dim.
My Only Title
© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
My only title to her grace
Is her sad, too silent face;
All my right to call her mine
The twin tears that on it shine,
Jest 'Fore Christmas
© Eugene Field
Father calls me William, sister calls me Will,
Mother calls me Willie, but the fellers call me Bill!
Aurora Leigh: Book Three
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
"To-day thou girdest up thy loins thyself
And goest where thou wouldest: presently
Others shall gird thee," said the Lord, "to go
Where thou wouldst not." He spoke to Peter thus,
To signify the death which he should die
When crucified head downward.
The Reward
© John Greenleaf Whittier
Who, looking backward from his manhood's prime,
Sees not the spectre of his misspent time?
And, through the shade
Of funeral cypress planted thick behind,
Hears no reproachful whisper on the wind
From his loved dead?
Despair
© Madison Julius Cawein
Shut in with phantoms of life's hollow hopes,
And shadows of old sins satiety slew,
The Princes' Quest - Part the Third
© William Watson
"O Sleep, thou hollow sea, thou soundless sea,
Dull-breaking on the shores of haunted lands,
Lo, I am thine: do what thou wilt with me.
Arraignment Of The Men
© Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz
Males perverse, schooled to condemn
Women by your witless laws,
Though forsooth you are prime cause
Of that which you blame in them:
The Woman Speaks
© Madison Julius Cawein
Why have you come? to see me in my shame?
A thing to spit on, to despise and scorn?--
Sordello: Book the Second
© Robert Browning
What next? The curtains see
Dividing! She is there; and presently
He will be there-the proper You, at length-
In your own cherished dress of grace and strength:
Most like, the very Boniface!
In After Days
© George Frederick Cameron
I WILL accomplish that and this,
And make myself a thorn to Things
Lords, councillors and tyrant kings
Who sit upon their thrones and kiss
The Dead Tribune
© Denis Florence MacCarthy
The awful shadow of a great man's death
Falls on this land, so sad and dark before-
Hymn XX: Weary Souls, that Wander Wide
© Charles Wesley
Weary souls, that wander wide
From the central point of bliss,
Turn to Jesus crucified,
Fly to those dear wounds of his:
Sink into the purple flood;
Rise into the life of God!
To The Fair
© Anonymous
This morning I sat by a maid,
And clasped her hand whiter than snow,
And I thought that an angel had strayed
From her home to make heaven below!
The Poet To Be Yet.
© Arthur Henry Adams
NOT he who sings smooth songs that soothe
Sweet opiates that lull asleep
The sorrow that would only weep;
There are some spirit-stains so deep
O My Lord, Your Dwelling Places Are Lovely
© Yehudah HaLevi
O My Lord, Your dwelling places are lovely
Your Presence is manifest, not in mystery.
Poet
© Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
I heard from the garden a woman singing,
But I
I gazed at the moon.
A Walts With a Tear in It
© Boris Pasternak
It will not bat an eye if you heap gold
And jewels on it-this shyest of fays
In blue enamel and tinfoil enfolded
Creeps in your heart of heartsand there it stays.
Ah, how I love it all in these first days,
All golden finery and silver shades!
