Love poems
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Sensation
© Thorley Wilfred Charles
On sunny summer evenings I shall wander down a bridle-path,The tall corn-blades will fondle me the while I tramp the turf;And dreaming, I shall feel the chilly sweetness on my idle path
On a Dead Girl
© Thorley Wilfred Charles
Lovely she was, if so be Night That slumbers in the sombre shrine.There laid by sculptor Michael's might Unmoving in her marble line.
The Lake
© Thorley Wilfred Charles
Thus ever drawn toward far shores uncharted, Into eternal darkness borne away,May we not ever on Time's sea, unthwarted, Cast anchor for a day?
El Desdichado
© Thorley Wilfred Charles
I am the dark inheritor of woe, The Prince of Aquitaine whose palace spire Lies low in dust
The Ballade of Lovely Ladyes of Long Agoe
© Thorley Wilfred Charles
O tell me where and in what lande Is Flora and the Roman lass?Where's Thaïs or the Ladye grande That was her equal in all grace? Saye where doth Echo hyde her faceWhose voice bye streame and pool doth straye, Whose beauty more than mortal was? --But where are the white snowes borne awaye?
Where nowe is learnéd Heloïse For whom poor Abelard lost allQuick fuel of love's agonies
As you maye see upon the stem in Maye
© Thorley Wilfred Charles
As you maye see upon the stem in Maye The younglynge rose's lovely bud new-burst Make heaven jealous of its hue when firstDawn sprinkles dew upon the new-born daye:Grace and sweet love within its leaves alwaye Make gardens redolent, till it doth thirst Too ardent for the rayne, and soon immerstDies, leaf by leaf, upon the witherynge spraye
April
© Thorley Wilfred Charles
April, pryde of all the yeareWhen appeare Leaves, and sap in fleecy budGently stirs with hope to yieldFruit fulfilled From the younglynges of the wood;
The City of Dreadful Night
© James Thomson
As I came through the desert thus it was,As I came through the desert: All was black,In heaven no single star, on earth no track;A brooding hush without a stir or note,The air so thick it clotted in my throat;And thus for hours; then some enormous thingsSwooped past with savage cries and clanking wings: But I strode on austere; No hope could have no fear
The Seasons: Summer
© James Thomson
From brightening fields of ether fair-disclos'd,Child of the sun, refulgent Summer comes,In pride of youth, and felt through nature's depth:He comes, attended by the sultry HoursAnd ever-fanning Breezes, on his way;While, from his ardent look, the turning SpringAverts her blushful face; and earth and skies,All-smiling, to his hot dominion leaves
The Castle of Indolence: Canto I
© James Thomson
The Castle hight of Indolence,And its false luxury;Where for a little time, alas!We liv'd right jollily.
How Do I Love Thee?
© Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
To Virgil, Written at the Request of the Mantuans for the Nineteenth Centenary of Virgil's Death
© Alfred Tennyson
Roman Virgil, thou that singest Ilion's lofty temples robed in fire,Ilion falling, Rome arising, wars, and filial faith, and Dido's pyre;
Locksley Hall Sixty Years After
© Alfred Tennyson
Late, my grandson! half the morning have I paced these sandy tracts,Watch'd again the hollow ridges roaring into cataracts,
V. The Soldier
© Rupert Brooke
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 6
© Alfred Tennyson
One writes, that "Other friends remain," That "Loss is common to the race"-- And common is the commonplace,And vacant chaff well meant for grain.
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 56
© Alfred Tennyson
"So careful of the type?" but no. From scarped cliff and quarried stone She cries, "A thousand types are gone:I care for nothing, all shall go.
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 131
© Alfred Tennyson
O living will that shalt endure When all that seems shall suffer shock, Rise in the spiritual rock,Flow thro' our deeds and make them pure,
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII [all 133 poems]
© Alfred Tennyson
[Preface] Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace,Believing where we cannot prove;
