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You are now in the place where we share poems of well-known poets, often from the list “Best Poems” and “Best Poets”. Due to copyright we only present the poems of those poets who passed away some time ago and therefore, you will not find poems of contemporary poets here. We invite you to familiarise yourself with the poems about Sweet available here and we hope you will enjoy reading. The poems about Sweet found here you can easily add to the free ecards from our site, and then send ecards to friends. Best Sweet poems for you.
O Sweetheart, Hear You
O Sweetheart, hear you
Your lover's tale;
A man shall have sorrow
When friends him fail.
For he shall know then
Friends be untrue
And a little ashes
Their words come to.
But one unto him
Will softly move
And softly woo him
In ways of love.
His hand is under
Her smooth round breast;
So he who has sorrow
Shall have rest.
Poems by James Joyce
Of That So Sweet Imprisonment
Of that so sweet imprisonment
My soul, dearest, is fain --;
Soft arms that woo me to relent
And woo me to detain.
Ah, could they ever hold me there
Gladly were I a prisoner!
Dearest, through interwoven arms
By love made tremulous,
That night allures me where alarms
Nowise may trouble us;
But lseep to dreamier sleep be wed
Where soul with soul lies prisoned.
Poems by James Joyce
Sing, Sweet Harp
Sing, sweet Harp, oh sing to me
Some song of ancient days,
Whose sounds, in this sad memory,
Long-buried dreams shall raise; --
Some lay that tells of vanish'd fame,
Whose light once round us shone,
Of noble pride, now turn'd to shame,
And hopes for ever gone.
Sing, sad Harp, thus sing to me;
Alike our doom is cast,
Both lost to all but memory,
We live but in the past.
How mournfully the midnight air
Among thy chords doth sigh,
As if it sought some echo there,
Of voices long gone by; --
Of chieftains, now forgot, who seem'd
The foremost then in fame;...
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Poems by Thomas Moore
Song--ally’s meek, Mally’s sweet
Chorus—Mally’s meek, Mally’s sweet,
MallyÂ’s modest and discreet;
MallyÂ’s rare, MallyÂ’s fair,
MallyÂ’s every way complete.
AS I was walking up the street,
A barefit maid I chancÂ’d to meet;
But O the road was very hard
For that fair maidenÂ’s tender feet.
MallyÂ’s meek, &c.
It were mair meet that those fine feet
Were weel laced up in silken shoon;
AnÂ’ Â’twere more fit that she should sit
Within yon chariot gilt aboon,
MallyÂ’s meek, &c....
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Poems by Robert Burns
Song—Go on, Sweet Bird, and Soothe my Care
For thee is laughing Nature gay,
For thee she pours the vernal day;
For me in vain is Nature drest,
While JoyÂ’s a stranger to my breast.
Poems by Robert Burns
Song—Sweet Afton
Flow gently, sweet Afton! amang thy green braes,
Flow gently, IÂ’ll sing thee a song in thy praise;
My MaryÂ’s asleep by thy murmuring stream,
Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream.
Thou stockdove whose echo resounds throÂ’ the glen,
Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den,
Thou green-crested lapwing thy screaming forbear,
I charge you, disturb not my slumbering Fair.
How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighbouring hills,
Far markÂ’d with the courses of clear, winding rills;
There daily I wander as noon rises high,
My flocks and my MaryÂ’s sweet cot in my eye....
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Poems by Robert Burns
Song—Sweet Tibbie Dunbar
O wilt thou go wiÂ’ me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
O wilt thou go wiÂ’ me, sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
Wilt thou ride on a horse, or be drawn in a car,
Or walk by my side, O sweet Tibbie Dunbar?
I care na thy daddie, his lands and his money,
I care na thy kin, sae high and sae lordly;
But sae that thouÂ’lt hae me for better for waur,
And come in thy coatie, sweet Tibbie Dunbar.
Poems by Robert Burns
Song—Their groves o’ sweet myrtle
Their groves oÂ’ sweet myrtle let Foreign Lands reckon,
Where bright-beaming summers exalt the perfume;
Far dearer to me yon lone glen oÂ’ green breckan,
WiÂ’ the burn stealing under the lang, yellow broom.
Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowèrs
Where the blue-bell and gowan lurk, lowly, unseen;
For there, lightly tripping, among the wild flowèrs,
A-listÂ’ning the linnet, aft wanders my Jean.
ThoÂ’ rich is the breeze in their gay, sunny valleys,
And cauld CaledoniaÂ’s blast on the wave;
Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the proud palace,
What are they?—the haunt of the Tyrant and Slave.
The SlaveÂ’s spicy forests, and gold-bubbling fountains,
The brave Caledonian views wiÂ’ disdain;
He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains,
Save Love’s willing fetters—the chains of his Jean.
Poems by Robert Burns
Sonnet 30: When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanished sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoanèd moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restored and sorrows end.
Poems by William Shakespeare
Tags from Poems Sweet
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