Love poems

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Metempsycosis

© John Donne

THE
PROGRESSE
OF THE SOULE.

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A Lover's Messengers

© Arlo Bates

The earliest flowers of spring

To thee, beloved, I bring:

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The Creeds Of The Bells

© Anonymous

How sweet the chime of the Sabbath bells!

Each one its creed in music tells

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The Virginity

© Rudyard Kipling

Try as he will, no man breaks wholly loose
From his first love, no matter who she be.
Oh, was there ever sailor free to choose,
That didn't settle somewhere near the sea?

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Ulster

© Rudyard Kipling

The dark eleventh hour
Draws on and sees us sold
To every evil power
We fought against of old.

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Lines To Fanny

© John Keats

What can I do to drive away
Remembrance from my eyes? for they have seen,
Aye, an hour ago, my brilliant Queen!
Touch has a memory. O say, love, say,

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A Song for the Night

© Daniel Henry Deniehy

O the Night, the Night, the solemn Night,

  When Earth is bound with her silent zone,

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The Blues

© William Matthews

What did I think, a storm clutching a clarinet
and boarding a downtown bus, headed for lessons?
I had pieces to learn by heart, but at twelve

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To Wolcott Balestier

© Rudyard Kipling

Beyond the path of the outmost sun through utter darkness hurled --
Further than ever comet flared or vagrant star-dust swirled --
Live such as fought and sailed and ruled and loved and made our world.

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To the Unknown Goddess

© Rudyard Kipling

Will you conquer my heart with your beauty; my sould going out from afar?
Shall I fall to your hand as a victim of crafty and cautions shikar?Have I met you and passed you already, unknowing, unthinking and blind?
Shall I meet you next session at Simla, O sweetest and best of your kind?Does the P. and O. bear you to meward, or, clad in short frocks in the West,
Are you growing the charms that shall capture and torture the heart in my breast?Will you stay in the Plains till September -- my passion as warm as the day?

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To the True Romance

© Rudyard Kipling

Thy face is far from this our war,
Our call and counter-cry,
I shall not find Thee quick and kind,
Nor know Thee till I die,

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Somewhere This

© Eli Siegel

Trees standing in rain;
Footfalls on the pavement, feet crushing leaves;
A little girl leaving her house;
The moon, barely to be seen, shining dully in the gray sky;

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The Discovery

© Thomas Hardy

I wandered to a crude coast
 Like a ghost;
 Upon the hills I saw fires -
 Funeral pyres
 Seemingly - and heard breaking
Waves like distant cannonades that set the land shaking.

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Tomlinson

© Rudyard Kipling

Now Tomlinson gave up the ghost in his house in Berkeley Square,
And a Spirit came to his bedside and gripped him by the hair --
A Spirit gripped him by the hair and carried him far away,
Till he heard as the roar of a rain-fed ford the roar of the Milky Way:

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Generation To Generation

© Antoine de Saint-Exupery

In a house which becomes a home,

one hands down and another takes up

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A Three-Part Song

© Rudyard Kipling

I'm just in love with all these three,
The Weald and the Marsh and the Down country.
Nor I don't know which I love the most,
The Weald or the Marsh or the white Chalk coast!

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Tarrant Moss

© Rudyard Kipling

I closed and drew for my love's sake
That now is false to me,
And I slew the Reiver of Tarrant Moss
And set Dumeny free.

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Rondel.

© Robert Crawford

The mist is in the town to-night,
And all the streets are dumb and drear;
The passers-by as ghosts appear,
Or things whose souls have taken flight

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Horace I, 22.

© Eugene Field

Fuscus, whoso to good inclines--
  And is a faultless liver--
  Nor moorish spear nor bow need fear,
  Nor poison-arrowed quiver.