Love poems

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Mother o' Mine

© Rudyard Kipling

If I were hanged on the highest hill,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!
I know whose love would follow me still,
Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!

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A Woman’s Sonnets: V

© Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Whate'er the cost to me, with this farewell,
I shall not see thee, speak to thee again.
If some on Earth must feel the pangs of Hell,
Mine only be it who have earned my pain.

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The Miracles

© Rudyard Kipling

I sent a message to my dear --
A thousand leagues and more to Her --
The dumb sea-levels thrilled to hear,
And Lost Atlantis bore to Her.

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The True Beatitude (Bouts-Rimes)

© Rupert Brooke

New sulphur on the sin-incarnadined . . .
Ah, Love! still temporal, and still atmospheric,
 Teleologically unperturbed,
We share a peace by no divine divined,
An earthly garden hidden from any cleric,
 Untrodden of God, by no Eternal curbed.

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Written At Trenton Falls

© Frances Anne Kemble

  O God! how full of happiness I stood!
  Looking into the eyes that were my day,
  And felt my soul, borne like that rushing flood,
  In eddying tumults of delight away.

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Thrasymedes And Eunoe

© Walter Savage Landor

"Ay before all the Gods,
Ay, before Pallas, before Artemis,
Ay, before Aphrodite, before Heré,
I dared; and dare again. Arise, my spouse!
Arise! and let my lips quaff purity
From thy fair open brow."

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Fast Anchor'd, Eternal, O Love

© Walt Whitman

FAST-ANCHOR'D, eternal, O love! O woman I love!
O bride! O wife! more resistless than I can tell, the thought of you!
-Then separate, as disembodied, or another born,
Ethereal, the last athletic reality, my consolation;
I ascend-I float in the regions of your love, O man,
O sharer of my roving life.

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Eclogue 8: To Pollio Damon Alphesiboeus

© Publius Vergilius Maro

Scarce had night's chilly shade forsook the sky
What time to nibbling sheep the dewy grass
Tastes sweetest, when, on his smooth shepherd-staff
Of olive leaning, Damon thus began.

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Mary, Pity Women!

© Rudyard Kipling

Nice while it lasted, an' now it is over --
Tear out your 'eart an' good-bye to you lover!
What's the use o' grievin', when the mother that bore you
(Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you?

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Haunts Of A Demon (extract from Saul)

© Charles Heavysege

The Jewish king now walks at large and sound,
Yet of our emissary Malzah hear we nothing:
Go now, sweet spirit, and, if need be, seek
This world all lover for him:--find him out,
Be he within the bounds of earth and hell.

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The Dead To The Living

© Edith Nesbit

Work while it is day: the night cometh, when no man can work.

IN the childhood of April, while purple woods

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The Traveller And The Farm-Maiden

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

HE.

CANST thou give, oh fair and matchless maiden,

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The Lovers' Litany

© Rudyard Kipling

Eyes of grey -- a sodden quay,
Driving rain and falling tears,
As the steamer wears to sea
In a parting storm of cheers.

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Miles Keogh's Horse

© John Hay

On the bluff of the Little Big-Horn,
At the close of a woful day,
Custer and his Three Hundred
In death and silence lay.

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By Morning Twilight

© George Meredith

Night, like a dying mother,

Eyes her young offspring, Day.

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The Port Phillip Patriot

© Anonymous

Oh, what a wretched, loathsome, thing am I,


Too horrible for earth, or the pure heaven,

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Parables

© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

WE clutch our joys as children do their flowers;
We look at them, but scarce believe them ours,
Till our hot palms have smirched their colors rare
And crushed their dewy beauty unaware.

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In The Gray Of The Evening. Autumn.

© Paul Hamilton Hayne

WHEN o'er yon forest solitudes
The sky of autumn evening broods--
A heaven whose warp, but palely bright,
Shot through with woofs of crimson light,

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Metamorphoses: Book The Fourth

© Ovid

  The End of the Fourth Book.


 Translated into English verse under the direction of
 Sir Samuel Garth by John Dryden, Alexander Pope, Joseph Addison,
 William Congreve and other eminent hands

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Sonnet XI. To Sleep

© Charlotte Turner Smith

COME, balmy Sleep! tired nature's soft resort!
On these sad temples all thy poppies shed;
And bid gay dreams, from Morpheus' airy court,
Float in light vision round my aching head!