Friendship by Henry David Thoreau

by | Nov 6, 2025 | Friendship Poems, Love Poems, Male Poets, Poems, Poetry, Poets

I think awhile of Love, and while I think,
Love is to me a world,
Sole meat and sweetest drink,
And close connecting link
Tween heaven and earth.

I only know it is, not how or why,
My greatest happiness;
However hard I try,
Not if I were to die,
Can I explain.

I fain would ask my friend how it can be,
But when the time arrives,
Then Love is more lovely
Than anything to me,
And so I’m dumb.

For if the truth were known, Love cannot speak,
But only thinks and does;
Though surely out ’twill leak
Without the help of Greek,
Or any tongue.

A man may love the truth and practise it,
Beauty he may admire,
And goodness not omit,
As much as may befit
To reverence.

But only when these three together meet,
As they always incline,
And make one soul the seat,
And favorite retreat,
Of loveliness;

When under kindred shape, like loves and hates
And a kindred nature,
Proclaim us to be mates,
Exposed to equal fates
Eternally;

And each may other help, and service do,
Drawing Love’s bands more tight,
Service he ne’er shall rue
While one and one make two,
And two are one;

In such case only doth man fully prove
Fully as man can do,
What power there is in Love
His inmost soul to move
Resistlessly.

Two sturdy oaks I mean, which side by side,
Withstand the winter’s storm,
And spite of wind and tide,
Grow up the meadow’s pride,
For both are strong

Above they barely touch, but undermined
Down to their deepest source,
Admiring you shall find
Their roots are intertwined
Insep’rably.

Friendship by Henry David Thoreau

by | November 6, 2025 | Friendship Poems, Love Poems, Male Poets, Poems, Poetry, Poets | 0 Comments

I think awhile of Love, and while I think,Love is to me a world,Sole meat and sweetest drink,And close connecting linkTween heaven and earth. I only know it is, not how or why,My greatest happiness;However hard I try,Not if I were to die,Can I explain. I fain would...
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Sonnet 104: To me, fair friend, you never can be old

by | November 6, 2025 | Friendship Poems, Male Poets, Poems, Poetry, Poets | 0 Comments

Sonnet 104: To me, fair friend, you never can be old By William Shakespeare To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I eyed, Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold Have from the forests shook three summers’ pride, Three...
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November by Charles L Cleaveland

by | November 4, 2025 | Male Poets, Nature Poems, November Poems, Poems, Poetry, Poets | 0 Comments

When thistle-blows do lightly floatAbout the pasture-height,And shrills the hawk a parting note,And creeps the frost at night,Then hilly ho! though singing so,And whistle as I may,There comes again the old heart painThrough all the livelong day. In high wind creaks...
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She Walks in Beauty

by | October 31, 2025 | Love Poems, Male Poets, Poems, Poetry, Romantic Poems | 0 Comments

She Walks in Beauty By Lord Byron (George Gordon) She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day...
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Sonnet 104: To me, fair friend, you never can be old

by | Nov 6, 2025 | Friendship Poems, Male Poets, Poems, Poetry, Poets

Sonnet 104: To me, fair friend, you never can be old

By William Shakespeare

To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I eyed,
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold
Have from the forests shook three summers’ pride,
Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turned
In process of the seasons have I seen,
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burned,
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
Ah, yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand,
Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived;
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived:
For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred:
Ere you were born was beauty’s summer dead.

November by Charles L Cleaveland

by | Nov 4, 2025 | Male Poets, Nature Poems, November Poems, Poems, Poetry, Poets

When thistle-blows do lightly float
About the pasture-height,
And shrills the hawk a parting note,
And creeps the frost at night,
Then hilly ho! though singing so,
And whistle as I may,
There comes again the old heart pain
Through all the livelong day.

In high wind creaks the leafless tree
And nods the fading fern;
The knolls are dun as snow-clouds be,
And cold the sun does burn.
Then ho, hollo! though calling so,
I can not keep it down;
The tears arise unto my eyes,
And thoughts are chill and brown.

Far in the cedars’ dusky stoles,
Where the sere ground-vine weaves,
The partridge drums funereal rolls
Above the fallen leaves.
And hip, hip, ho! though cheering so,
It stills no whit the pain;
For drip, drip, drip, from bare branchtip,
I hear the year’s last rain.

So drive the cold cows from the hill,
And call the wet sheep in;
And let their stamping clatter fill
The barn with warming din.
And ho, folk, ho! though it is so
That we no more may roam,
We still will find a cheerful mind
Around the fire at home!

She Walks in Beauty

by | Oct 31, 2025 | Love Poems, Male Poets, Poems, Poetry, Romantic Poems

She Walks in Beauty

By Lord Byron (George Gordon)

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes;

Thus mellowed to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impaired the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o’er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express,

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!