Poem of the day
Categories
Poetry Hubs
Explore
You can also search by theme, metrics, form
and more.
Poems
Poets
Page 61 of 190
Previous
Next
Afridi Love
Since, Oh, Beloved, you are not even faithful To me, who loved you so, for one short night,For one brief space of darkness, though my absence Did but endure until the dawning light;Since all your beauty - which was mine - you squandered On that which now lies dead across your door;See here this knife, made keen and bright to kill you. You shall not see the sun rise any more.Lie still! Lie still! In all the empty village Who is there left to hear or heed your cry?All are gone to labour in the valley, Who will return before your time to die?No use to struggle; when I found you sleeping, I took your hands and bound them to your side,And both these slender feet, too apt at straying, Down to th...
Adela Florence Cory Nicolson
And Doth Not A Meeting Like This.
And doth not a meeting like this make amends, For all the long years I've been wandering away--To see thus around me my youth's early friends, As smiling and kind as in that happy day?Tho' haply o'er some of your brows, as o'er mine, The snow-fall of time may be stealing--what then?Like Alps in the sunset, thus lighted by wine, We'll wear the gay tinge of youth's roses again.What softened remembrances come o'er the heart, In gazing on those we've been lost to so long!The sorrows, the joys, of which once they were part, Still round them, like visions of yesterday, throng,As letters some hand hath invisibly traced, When held to the flame will steal out on the sight,So many a feeling, that long seemed effaced, The warmth of...
Thomas Moore
A Heine Love Song
The image of the moon at nightAll trembling in the ocean lies,But she, with calm and steadfast light,Moves proudly through the radiant skies,How like the tranquil moon thou art--Thou fairest flower of womankind!And, look, within my fluttering heartThy image trembling is enshrined!
Eugene Field
Flos Aevorum
You must mean more than just this hour, You perfect thing so subtly fair,Simple and complex as a flower, Wrought with such planetary care;How patient the eternal power That wove the marvel of your hair.How long the sunlight and the sea Wove and re-wove this rippling goldTo rhythms of eternity; And many a flashing thing grew old,Waiting this miracle to be; And painted marvels manifold,Still with his work unsatisfied, Eager each new effect to try,The solemn artist cast aside, Rainbow and shell and butterfly,As some stern blacksmith scatters wide The sparks that from his anvil fly.How many shells, whorl within whorl, Litter the marges of the sphereWith wrack of unregarded pear...
Richard Le Gallienne
To Caroline. [1]
1.You say you love, and yet your eyeNo symptom of that love conveys,You say you love, yet know not why,Your cheek no sign of love betrays.2.Ah! did that breast with ardour glow,With me alone it joy could know,Or feel with me the listless woe,Which racks my heart when far from thee.3.Whene'er we meet my blushes rise,And mantle through my purpled cheek,But yet no blush to mine replies,Nor e'en your eyes your love bespeak.4.Your voice alone declares your flame,And though so sweet it breathes my name,Our passions still are not the same;Alas! you cannot love like me.5.For e'en your lip seems steep'd in snow,And though so oft it meets my ...
George Gordon Byron
Isolation - To Marguerite
We were apart; yet, day by day,I bade my heart more constant be.I bade it keep the world away,And grow a home for only thee;Nor fear'd but thy love likewise grew,Like mine, each day, more tried, more true.The fault was grave! I might have known,What far too soon, alas! I learn'dThe heart can bind itself alone,And faith may oft be unreturn'd.Self-sway'd our feelings ebb and swellThou lov'st no more; Farewell! Farewell!Farewell! and thou, thou lonely heart,Which never yet without remorseEven for a moment didst departFrom thy remote and spherèd courseTo haunt the place where passions reignBack to thy solitude again!Back! with the conscious thrill of shameWhich Luna felt, that summer-night,Flash through her...
Matthew Arnold
Sonnet CLIX.
Stiamo, Amor, a veder la gloria nostra.TO LOVE, ON LAURA WALKING ABROAD. Here stand we, Love, our glory to behold--How, passing Nature, lovely, high, and rare!Behold! what showers of sweetness falling there!What floods of light by heaven to earth unroll'd!How shine her robes, in purple, pearls, and gold,So richly wrought, with skill beyond compare!How glance her feet!--her beaming eyes how fairThrough the dark cloister which these hills enfold!The verdant turf, and flowers of thousand huesBeneath yon oak's old canopy of state,Spring round her feet to pay their amorous duty.The heavens, in joyful reverence, cannot chooseBut light up all their fires, to celebrateHer praise, whose presence charms their awful beauty.
Francesco Petrarca
Nature's Music.
Of many gifts bestowed on earth To cheer a lonely hour,Oh is there one of equal worth With music's magic power?'Twill charm each angry thought to rest, 'Twill gloomy care dispel,And ever we its power can test, - All nature breathes its spell.There's music in the sighing tone Of the soft, southern breezeThat whispers thro' the flowers lone, And bends the stately trees,And - in the mighty ocean's chime, The crested breakers roar,The wild waves, ceaseless surge sublime, Breaking upon the shore.There's music in the bulbul's note, Warbling its vesper layIn some fair spot, from man remote, Where wind and flowers play;But, oh! beyond the sweetest strain Of bird, or wave, or gro...
Rosanna Eleanor Leprohon
A Little Te Deum Of The Commonplace. A Fragment
With hearts responsiveAnd enfranchised eyes,We thank Thee, Lord,--For all things beautiful, and good, and true;For things that seemed not good yet turned to good;For all the sweet compulsions of Thy willThat chased, and tried, and wrought us to Thy shape;For things unnumbered that we take of right,And value first when first they are withheld;For light and air; sweet sense of sound and smell;For ears to hear the heavenly harmonies;For eyes to see the unseen in the seen;For vision of The Worker in the work;For hearts to apprehend Thee everywhere; We thank Thee, Lord!For all the wonders of this wondrous world;--The pure pearl splendours of the coming day,The breaking east,--the rosy flush,--the Dawn,--For tha...
William Arthur Dunkerley (John Oxenham)
It Is Finished.
Dear Lord, let me recount to TheeSome of the great things thou hast doneFor me, even meThy little one.It was not I that cared for Thee, -But Thou didst set Thy heart uponMe, even meThy little one.And therefore was it sweet to TheeTo leave Thy Majesty and Throne,And grow like meA Little One,A swaddled Baby on the kneeOf a dear Mother of Thine own,Quite weak like meThy little one.Thou didst assume my misery,And reap the harvest I had sown,Comforting meThy little one.Jerusalem and Galilee, -Thy love embraced not those alone,But also meThy little one.Thy unblemished Body on the TreeWas bared and broken to atoneFor me, for meThy little one.
Christina Georgina Rossetti
Lisetta's Reply
Sure Cloe Just, and Cloe FairDeserves to be Your only Care:But when You and She to-dayFar into the Wood did stray,And I happen'd to pass by;Which way did You cast your Eye?But when your Cares to Her You sing,Yet dare not tell Her whence they spring;Does it not more afflict your Heart,That in those Cares She bears a Part?When You the Flow'rs for Cloe twine,Why do You to Her Garland joinThe meanest Bud that falls from Mine?Simplest of Swains! the World may see,Whom Cloe loves, and Who loves Me.
Matthew Prior
Fount Of Bliss
"Yea I have loved thee with an everlasting love."Love of God! - amazing love!Height, above all other height,Depth no creature thought can prove,Boundless, endless, infinite!Howsoe'er I sink or rise,Stretch my powers beyond, abroad,Pierce the depths or climb the skies,Find I still the love of God -Fount of bliss, exhaustless, free,Evermore unsealed for me!Love of Christ! - amazing love!Vast as His eternity;Theme of angel-tongues above,Theme of souls redeemed like me!Outward to creation's bound,Up to Heaven's serenest height,Universal space around,Swells the chorus day and night -Fount of bliss, exhaustless, free,Evermore unsealed for me!Oh, these tongues that falter soWhen...
Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)
To ----
Ah, often do I wait and watch,And look up, straining through the RealWith longing eyes, my friend, to catchFaint glimpses of your white Ideal.I know she loved to rest her feetBy slumbrous seas and hidden strand;But mostly hints of her I meetOn moony spots of mountain land.Ive never reached her shining place,And only cross at times a gleam;As one might pass a fleeting faceJust on the outside of a Dream.But you may climb, her happy Choice!She knows your step, the maiden true,And ever when she hears your voice,She turns and sits and waits for you.How sweet to rest on breezy crestWith such a Love, what time the MornLooks from his halls of rosy rest,Across green miles of gleaming corn!How sweet ...
Henry Kendall
Kismet
Love came to her unsought,Love served her many ways,And patiently Love followed herThroughout the nights and days.Love spent his life for herAnd hid his tears and sighs;He bartered all his soul for her,With tender pleading eyes.Her scarlet mouth that smiled,Mocked lightly at his woe,And while she would not bid him stayShe did not bid him go.But hope within him failedUntil he pled no more -And cold and still he turned his faceAway from her heart's door.* * * * *Long were the days she watchedFor one who never came; -Through sleepless nights her white lips boreThe burden of a name.
Virna Sheard
To Laura. (The Mystery Of Reminiscence.) [2]
Who and what gave to me the wish to woo theeStill, lip to lip, to cling for aye unto thee?Who made thy glances to my soul the linkWho bade me burn thy very breath to drink My life in thine to sink?As from the conqueror's unresisted glaive,Flies, without strife subdued, the ready slaveSo, when to life's unguarded fort, I seeThy gaze draw near and near triumphantly Yields not my soul to thee?Why from its lord doth thus my soul depart?Is it because its native home thou art?Or were they brothers in the days of yore,Twin-bound both souls, and in the link they bore Sigh to be bound once more?Were once our beings blent and intertwining,And therefore still my heart for thine is pining?Knew we the light of some extinguished sunThe j...
Friedrich Schiller
To Lesbia! [1]
1.LESBIA! since far from you I've rang'd,Our souls with fond affection glow not;You say, 'tis I, not you, have chang'd,I'd tell you why, -but yet I know not.2.Your polish'd brow no cares have crost;And Lesbia! we are not much older,Since, trembling, first my heart I lost,Or told my love, with hope grown bolder.3.Sixteen was then our utmost age,Two years have lingering pass'd away, love!And now new thoughts our minds engage,At least, I feel disposed to stray, love!4."Tis I that am alone to blame,I, that am guilty of love's treason;Since your sweet breast is still the same,Caprice must be my only reason.5.I do not, love! suspect your truth,...
A Song Of Summer Days
As pearls slip off a silken string and fall into the sea,These rounded summer days fall back into eternity.Into the deep from whence they came; into the mystery -At set of sun each one slips back as pearls into the sea.They are so sweet - so warm and sweet - Love fain would hold them fast:He weeps when through his finger tips they slip away at last.
Dear Is The Lost Wife To A Lone Man's Heart. (Hymn)
"I have loved thee with an everlasting love."Dear is the lost wife to a lone man's heart, When in a dream he meets her at his door,And, waked for joy, doth know she dwells apart, All unresponsive on a silent shore;Dearer, yea, more desired art thou - for theeMy divine heart yearns by the jasper sea.More than the mother's for her sucking child; She wants, with emptied arms and love untold,Her most dear little one that on her smiled And went; but more, I want Mine own. Behold,I long for My redeem'd, where safe with MeTwelve manner of fruits grow on th' immortal tree;The tree of life that I won back for men, And planted in the city of My God.Lift up thy head, I love thee; wherefore, then, Liest thou so lo...
Jean Ingelow