|
|
Hope is a thing with feathers |
I gave
myself to him |
I held a
jewel in my fingers |
I many
times thought peace had come |
I never
lost as much |
I should
not dare |
If you were coming in the fall |
My friend must
be a bird |
My River |
Wild Nights |
You left me |
|
E |
|
|
T.S. Eliot |
A Dedication
to my wife |
|
F |
|
Robert Frost
|
To Earthward |
|
H |
|
Heinrich Heine
|
Of Pearls and
Stars |
|
Robert Herrick
|
|
To the Virgins, Make Much of Time
|
Upon Julia's
Clothes
|
|
J |
|
Ben
Jonson
|
|
Song : To Celia |
|
K |
|
|
Omar
Khayyam
|
|
A book of verse |
Ah my beloved |
Come fill the cup |
For some we loved |
Never blows so
red |
You know my friends |
|
L |
|
Walter Savage
Landor
|
|
You Smiled |
|
M |
|
| Christopher Marlowe
|
The Face
of Helen
|
The
passionate shepherd
|
Who Ever Loved That Loved Not at First Sight?
|
|
Andrew Marvell
|
To his coy
Mistress
|
|
Alice Meynell
|
Changeless
|
Renouncement
|
|
P |
|
Edgar Allen Poe
|
Annabel Lee |
Eulalie |
To
Helen |
|
R
|
|
| Sir Walter Ralegh (Raleigh) |
Her Reply (To the Passionate Shepherd to his love)
|
| Thomas Randolph |
The Milkmaid's Epithalamium |
| Christina Rossetti
|
Remember
|
The first
day
|
|
S
|
|
|
William Shakespeare
|
O mistress mine,
Feste's song from Twelfth Night
|
My mistress'
eyes are nothing like the sun
|
Shall I compare
thee to a summers day?
|
Sonnet CXVI
|
s
That time
of year
|
Tell her
that's young
|
| Percy Bysshe Shelley
|
The Indian
Serenade |
Music, When soft voices die |
When the lamp is shattered |
Philip Sidney
|
My True
Love has my Heart |
| Edmund Spenser
|
My love
is like to ice |
One day
I wrote her name |
|
U |
|
|
Unknown |
Bonny Barbara Allen |
|
W |
|
Walt Whitman
|
To a Stranger |
|
John Wilnot,
Earl of Rochester
|
The Imperfect Enjoyment |
|
William
Wordsworth
|
She dwelt among the untrodden ways |
We are seven |
|
Y
|
|
| William Butler Yeats
|
A Drinking
Song |
Brown Penny |
He wishes for the cloths of heaven |
The ragged
wood |
The
sorrow of love |
The Rose in the Deeps of his Heart |
When you are
old |
Love is, above all, the
gift of oneself. - Jean Anouilh,
When
I am sad and weary. When I think all hope has gone.
When I walk
along High Holborn, I think of you with nothing on
.
Adrian Mitchell
Those have most power
to hurt us that we love. - Francis Beaumont
