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Because I Liked You BetterA.E HousmanBecause I liked you better
Than suits a man to say,
It irked you, and I promised
The WorldChristina RossettiBY day she wooes me, soft, exceeding fair :
But all night as the moon so changeth she ;
Loathsome and foul with hideous leprosy 
To George Sand. A Recognition. Elizabeth Barrett Browning TRUE genius, but true woman ! dost deny
Thy woman's nature with a manly scorn,
And break away the gauds and armlets worn
By weaker women in captivity ? 
A GirlMichael FieldA Girl,
Her soul a deep-wave pearl
Dim, lucent of all lovely mysteries;
It was deep AprilMichael FieldIt was deep April, and the morn
Shakespere was born;
The world was on us, pressing sore;
My Love and I took hands and swore,
Á Quoi Bon DireCharlotte MewÁ Quoi Bon Dire
Seventeen years ago you said
Something that sounded like Good-bye;
THE DIVINE LOVEEdward CarpenterCHILD, the hours that breathe around thee
Know thee most divinely fair ;
In its love the last enwound thee,
And the next shall take thy hair
With Whom, Then, Should I Sleep? George IvesWith whom, then, should I sleep? perhaps with thee,
And gaze into those eyes, those deep sad eyes,
Feeling the drowsy touch of thy vast wings.
A Young Girl Seen in ChurchEliza Mary HamiltonWas she an orphan? —can another grief
So wholly chasten? —can another woe
So sanctify? —for she was (as a leaf
My DreamChristina RossettiHEAR now a curious dream I dreamed last night,
Each word whereof is weighed and sifted truth.
I stood beside Euphrates while it swelled 
My Heart is LameCharlotte MewMy heart is lame with running after yours so fast
Such a long way,
Shall we walk slowly home, looking at all the things we passed
Perhaps to-day?
On the Road to the SeaCharlotte MewWe passed each other, turned and stopped for half an hour, then went our way,
I who make other women smile did not make you--
But no man can move mountains in a day.
AbsenceCharlotte MewSometimes I know the way
You walk, up over the bay;
It is a wind from that far sea
That blows the fragrance of your hair to me.
I Love Him WiselyJohn Gambril NicholsonI love him wisely if I love him well,
And so I let him keep his innocence
I veil my adoration with pretence
Ask me no more, for fear I should reply A. E. Housman Ask me no more, for fear I should reply;
Others have held their tongues, and so can I,
Hundreds have died, and told no tale befoer:
Hyde Park --NovemberMarc- Andre RaffalovichPale love, sweet sufferer whose cold hands I chafe,
To whom my show of courage courage lends,
How do they love whose love is always safe,
Oh were he and I togetherA.E. HousmanOh were he and I together
Shipmates on the fleeted main,
Sailing through the summer weather
To the spoil of France or Spain.
UnbosomingMichael Field"The love that breeds
In my heart for thee!
As the iris is full, brimful of seeds,
And all that it flowered for among the reeds
Sinfonia Eroica (To Sylvia)Amy LevyMY Love, my Love, it was a day in June
A mellow, drowsy, golden afternoon ;
And all the eager people thronging came
To that great hall, drawn by the magic name 
Where Art Thou FriendGerard Manley HopkinsWhere art thou friend, whom I shall never see,
Conceiving whom I must conceive amiss?
Or sunder'd from my sight in the age that is
The Beginning of the EndGerard Manley HopkinsMy love is lessened and must soon be past.
I never promised such persistency
In its condition. No, the tropic tree
ConstancyMichael FieldI love her with the seasons, with the winds,
As the stars worship, as anemones
Shudder in secret for the sun, as bees
Goblin MarketChristina RossettiMORNING and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry :
“Come buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy :
Apples and quinces,
Lemons and oranges,
Plump unpecked cherries, 
ΓΛΥΚΥΠΙΚΟΣ ΕΡΩΣ Flower Of LoveOscar Wilde"Sweet, I blame you not, for mine the fault was, had I not been made of common clayI had climbed the higher heights unclimbed yet, seen the fuller air, the larger day.
The Laws of God, the Laws of ManA.E. Housman THE laws of God, the laws of man,
He may keep that will and can ;
Not I : let God and man decree
Laws for themselves and not for me ; 
In the Mile End RoadAmy LevyHOW like her ! But 'tis she herself,
Comes up the crowded street,
How little did I think, the morn, 