Love poems
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My Felisberto
© James Tate
My felisberto is handsomer than your mergotroid,
although, admittedly, your mergotroid may be the wiser of the two.
Goodtime Jesus
© James Tate
Jesus got up one day a little later than usual. He had been dream-
ing so deep there was nothing left in his head. What was it?
A nightmare, dead bodies walking all around him, eyes rolled
back, skin falling off. But he wasn't afraid of that. It was a beau-
tiful day. How 'bout some coffee? Don't mind if I do. Take a little
ride on my donkey, I love that donkey. Hell, I love everybody.
O Fool
© Rabindranath Tagore
Thy desire at once puts out the light from the lamp it touches with its breath.
It is unholy---take not thy gifts through its unclean hands.
Accept only what is offered by sacred love.
My Friend
© Rabindranath Tagore
Art thou abroad on this stormy night
on thy journey of love, my friend?
The sky groans like one in despair.
I prithee spare me gentle boy
© Sir John Suckling
I prithee spare me gentle boy,
Press me no more for that slight toy,
That foolish trifle of an heart;
I swear it will not do its part,
Though thou dost thine, employ'st thy pow'r and art.
Amoretti LXXV: One Day I Wrote Her Name
© Edmund Spenser
One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Amoretti LXXIV: Most Happy Letters
© Edmund Spenser
Most happy letters, fram'd by skilful trade,
With which that happy name was first design'd:
Amoretti LXVIII: Most Glorious Lord of Life
© Edmund Spenser
Most glorious Lord of life, that on this day,
Didst make thy triumph over death and sin:
A Hymn Of Heavenly Beauty
© Edmund Spenser
Rapt with the rage of mine own ravish'd thought,
Through contemplation of those goodly sights,
The Army of Death
© Charles Hamilton Sorley
When you see millions of the mouthless dead
Across your dreams in pale battalions go,
Jubilate Agno (excerpt)
© Christopher Smart
For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him.
Weirdos
© Sasha Skenderija
Deep and unreachable in their darknesses,
capriciously childish and tender
when we write to each other,
while we talk about one of us
who is not around.
Sonnet XXXI: With How Sad Steps, O Moon
© Sir Philip Sidney
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
Astrophel and Stella: XXXIII
© Sir Philip Sidney
I might!--unhappy word--O me, I might,
And then would not, or could not, see my bliss;
Astrophel and Stella: XV
© Sir Philip Sidney
You that do search for every purling spring
Which from the ribs of old Parnassus flows,
Astrophel and Stella: LXXI
© Sir Philip Sidney
Who will in fairest book of nature know
How virtue may best lodg'd in beauty be,
Astrophel and Stella: LXIV
© Sir Philip Sidney
No more, my dear, no more these counsels try;
Oh, give my passions leave to run their race;
Astrophel and Stella: III
© Sir Philip Sidney
Let dainty wits cry on the sisters nine,
That, bravely mask'd, their fancies may be told;
