Love poems
/ page 980 of 1285 /Buddha
© Vachel Lindsay
Would that by Hindu magic we became
Dark monks of jeweled India long ago,
Sitting at Prince Siddartha's feet to know
The foolishness of gold and love and station,
The King of Yellow Butterflies
© Vachel Lindsay
(A Poem Game.)
The King of Yellow Butterflies,
The King of Yellow Butterflies,
The King of Yellow Butterflies,
Dying Speech Of An Old Philosopher
© Walter Savage Landor
I strove with none, for none was worth my strife:
Nature I loved, and, next to Nature, Art:
I warmd both hands before the fire of Life;
It sinks; and I am ready to depart.
Darling Daughter of Babylon
© Vachel Lindsay
Too soon you wearied of our tears.
And then you danced with spangled feet,
Leading Belshazzar's chattering court
A-tinkling through the shadowy street.
An Orchard Dance
© Norman Rowland Gale
All work is over at the farm
And men and maids are ripe for glee;
Beyond the Moon
© Vachel Lindsay
M< Sweetheart is the TRUTH BEYOND THE MOON,
And never have I been in love with Woman,
Always aspiring to be set in tune
With one who is invisible, inhuman.
In Memoriam A. H. H.: 6.
© Alfred Tennyson
O mother, praying God will save
Thy sailor,-while thy head is bow'd,
His heavy-shotted hammock-shroud
Drops in his vast and wandering grave.
Popcorn, Glass Balls, and Cranberries
© Vachel Lindsay
The Lion is a kingly beast.
He likes a Hindu for a feast.
And if no Hindu he can get,
The lion-family is upset.
Bi-Focal
© William Stafford
Sometimes up out of this land
a legend begins to move.
Is it a coming near
of something under love?
A Curse for Kings
© Vachel Lindsay
A curse upon each king who leads his state,
No matter what his plea, to this foul game,
And may it end his wicked dynasty,
And may he die in exile and black shame.
The Firemen's Ball
© Vachel Lindsay
"Many's the heart that's breaking
If we could read them all
After the ball is over."
Walking to School, 1964 by David Wojahn : American Life in Poetry #215 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureat
© Ted Kooser
To commemorate Mother's Day, here's a lovely poem by David Wojahn of Virginia, remembering his mother after forty years.
Walking to School, 1964
The Brave Days To Be.
© Arthur Henry Adams
I looked far in the future; down the dim
Echoless avenue of silent years,
And through the cold grey haze of Time I saw
The fair fulfilment of my spacious dream.
Ordination
© John Keble
'Twas silence in Thy temple, Lord,
When slowly through the hallowed air
The spreading cloud of incense soared,
Charged with the breath of Israel's prayer.
Ghosts in Love
© Vachel Lindsay
"Tell me, where do ghosts in love
Find their bridal veils?" "If you and I were ghosts in love
We'd climb the cliffs of Mystery,
Above the sea of Wails.
Yankee Doodle
© Vachel Lindsay
This poem is intended as a description of a sort of Blashfield mural painting on the sky. To be sung to the tune of Yankee Doodle, yet in a slower, more orotund fashion. It is presumably an exercise for an entertainment on the evening of Washington's Birthday.
Dawn this morning burned all red
Watching them in wonder.
There I saw our spangled flag
Our Mother Pocahontas
© Vachel Lindsay
She sings of lilacs, maples, wheat,
Her own soil sings beneath her feet,
Of springtime
And Virginia,
Our Mother, Pocahontas.
The Adieu
© George Gordon Byron
Written Under The Impression That The Author Would Soon Die.
Adieu, thou Hill! where early joy
Spread roses o'er my brow;