Love poems
/ page 984 of 1285 /Study of an Elevation, In Indian Ink
© Rudyard Kipling
Potiphar Gubbins, C.E.
Stands at the top of the tree;
And I muse in my bed on the reasons that led
To the hoisting of Potiphar G.
The Story of Ung
© Rudyard Kipling
Once, on a glittering ice-field, ages and ages ago,
Ung, a maker of pictures, fashioned an image of snow.
Fashioned the form of a tribesman -- gaily he whistled and sung,
Working the snow with his fingers. Read ye the Story of Ung!
The Naked Land
© Kenneth Patchen
I cook my senses in a dark fire.
The old wombs rot and the new mother
Approaches with the footsteps of a world.
To C. Lloyd, On His Proposing To Domesticate With The Author
© Samuel Taylor Coleridge
A mount, not wearisome and bare and steep,
But a green mountain variously up-piled
Where o'er the jutting rocks soft mosses creep
Or colored lichens with slow oozing weep;
South Africa
© Rudyard Kipling
Christian gentlemen a few
From Berwick unto Dover;
For she was South Africa,
Ana she was South Africa,
She was Our South Africa,
Africa all over!
The Domestic Affections
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Favor'd of Heav'n! O Genius! are they thine,
When round thy brow the wreaths of glory shine;
While rapture gazes on thy radiant way,
'Midst the bright realms of clear and mental day?
The Songs of the Lathes
© Rudyard Kipling
1918Being the Words of the Tune Hummed at Her Lathe by Mrs. L. Embsay, Widow
The fans and the beltings they roar round me.
The power is shaking the floor round me
Till the lathes pick up their duty and the midnight-shift takes over.
It is good for me to be here!
The Song of the Women
© Rudyard Kipling
How shall she know the worship we would do her?
The walls are high, and she is very far.
How shall the woman's message reach unto her
Above the tumult of the packed bazaar?
Free wind of March, against the lattice blowing,
Bear thou our thanks, lest she depart unknowing.
Love Well The Hour
© Edith Nesbit
HEART of my heart, my life and light,
If you were lost what should I do?
I dare not let you from my sight,
Lest Death should fall in love with you.
Song of the Wise Children
© Rudyard Kipling
When the darkened Fifties dip to the North,
And frost and the fog divide the air,
And the day is dead at his breaking-forth,
Sirs, it is bitter beneath the Bear!
Autograph Verses
© Joseph Furphy
"Prove what Life can give of gladness;
Seek for aught that merits trust
The Song of the Sons
© Rudyard Kipling
One from the ends of the earth -- gifts at an open door --
Treason has much, but we, Mother, thy sons have more!
From the whine of a dying man, from the snarl of a wolf-pack freed,
Turn, and the world is thine. Mother, be proud of thy seed!
The Song of Seven Cities
© Rudyard Kipling
I was Lord of Cities very sumptuously builded.
Seven roaring Cities paid me tribute from far.
Ivory their outposts were--the guardrooms of them gilded,
And garrisoned with Amazons invincible in war.
Ode in Honour
© Francis Scarfe
Evening is part of the jig-saw truth of her,
ply-wood ply-flesh, her insolent reply
blinding the ace with a straight shot to centre,
the woman's a delicate devil in twenty places
blander and blonder, tinder tenderly
setting the smiles on fire in men's faces.
Song of Diego Valdez
© Rudyard Kipling
The God of Fair Beginnings
Hath prospered here my hand --
The cargoes of my lading,
And the keels of my command.
The Song of the Cities
© Rudyard Kipling
BOMBAY
Royal and Dower-royal, I the Queen
Fronting thy richest sea with richer hands --