Poems of love

 Poems of love, Love Poem, Love Poems, Poem for love

The Little Waves Of Breffny by Eva Gore-Booth

The grand road from the mountain goes shining to the sea,

And there is traffic in it and many a horse and cart,

But the little roads of Cloonagh are dearer far to me,

And the little roads of Cloonagh go rambling through my heart.

A great storm from the ocean goes shouting o’er the hill,

And there is glory in it and terror on the wind,

But the haunted air of twilight is very strange and still,

And the little winds of twilight are dearer to my mind.

The great waves of the Atlantic sweep storming on their way,

Shining green and silver with the hidden herring shoal,

But the Little Waves of Breffny have drenched my heart in spray,

And the Little Waves of Breffny go stumbling through my soul.

Love Lies Sleeping by Elizabeth Bishop

Earliest morning, switching all the tracks

that cross the sky from cinder star to star,

coupling the ends of streets  to trains of light.

now draw us into daylight in our beds;

and clear away what presses on the brain:

put out the neon shapes that float and swell and glare

down the gray avenue between the eyes

in pinks and yellows, letters and twitching signs.

      Hang-over moons, wane, wane!

     From the window I see

an immense city, carefully revealed,

made delicate by over-workmanship,

       detail upon detail,

       cornice upon facade,

reaching up so languidly up into

a weak white sky, it seems to waver there.

       (Where it has slowly grown

       in skies of water-glass

from fused beads of iron and copper crystals,

the little chemical "garden" in a jar

       trembles and stands again,

       pale blue, blue-green, and brick.)

The sparrows hurriedly begin their play.

Then, in the West, "Boom!" and a cloud of smoke.

       "Boom!" and the exploding ball

       of blossom blooms again.

(And all the employees who work in a plants

where such a sound says "Danger," or once said "Death,"

       turn in their sleep and feel

       the short hairs bristling

on backs of necks.) The cloud of smoke moves off.

A shirt is taken of a threadlike clothes-line.

       Along the street below

      the water-wagon comes

throwing its hissing, snowy fan across

peelings and newspapers.  The water dries

       light-dry, dark-wet, the pattern

       of the cool watermelon.

I hear the day-springs of the morning strike

from stony walls and halls and iron beds,

       scattered or grouped cascades,  

       alarms for the expected:

queer cupids of all persons getting up,

whose evening meal they will prepare all day,

       you will dine well

       on his heart, on his, and his,

so send them about your business affectionately,

dragging in the streets their unique loves.

       Scourge them with roses only,

       be light as helium,

for always to one, or several, morning comes

whose head has fallen over the edge of his bed,

       whose face is turned

       so that the image of

the city grows down into his open eyes

inverted and distorted.  No.  I mean

       distorted and revealed,

       if he sees it at all.

Lamp Of Love by Rabindranath Tagore

Light, oh where is the light?

Kindle it with the burning fire of desire!

There is the lamp but never a flicker of a flame—-is such thy fate, my heart?

Ah, death were better by far for thee!

Misery knocks at thy door,

and her message is that thy lord is wakeful,

and he calls thee to the love-tryst through the darkness of night.

The sky is overcast with clouds and the rain is ceaseless.

I know not what this is that stirs in me—-I know not its meaning.

A moment's flash of lightning drags down a deeper gloom on my sight,

and my heart gropes for the path to where the music of the night calls me.

Light, oh where is the light!

Kindle it with the burning fire of desire!

It thunders and the wind rushes screaming through the void.

The night is black as a black stone.

Let not the hours pass by in the dark.

Kindle the lamp of love with thy life.

You Say You Love by John Keats

You say you love ; but with a voice

Chaster than a nun's, who singeth

The soft Vespers to herself

While the chime-bell ringeth-

O love me truly!

You say you love; but with a smile

Cold as sunrise in September,

As you were Saint Cupid 's nun,

And kept his weeks of Ember.

O love me truly!

You say you love but then your lips

Coral tinted teach no blisses,

More than coral in the sea

They never pout for kisses

O love me truly!

You say you love ; but then your hand

No soft squeeze for squeeze returneth,

It is like a statue's dead

While mine to passion burneth

O love me truly!

O breathe a word or two of fire!

Smile, as if those words should bum me,

Squeeze as lovers should O kiss

And in thy heart inurn me!

O love me truly!

A Love Song by Paul Laurence Dunbar

Ah, love, my love is like a cry in the night,

  A long, loud cry to the empty sky,

  The cry of a man alone in the desert,

  With hands uplifted, with parching lips,

  Oh, rescue me, rescue me,

  Thy form to mine arms,

  The dew of thy lips to my mouth,

  Dost thou hear me?--my call thro' the night?

  Darling, I hear thee and answer,

  Thy fountain am I,

  All of the love of my soul will I bring to thee,

  All of the pains of my being shall wring to thee,

  Deep and forever the song of my loving shall sing to thee,

  Ever and ever thro' day and thro' night shall I cling to thee.

  Hearest thou the answer?

  Darling, I come, I come.

A Woman's Love by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

So vast the tide of Love within me surging,

  It overflows like some stupendous sea,

  The confines of the Present and To-be;

And 'gainst the Past's high wall I feel it urging,

As it would cry "Thou too shalt yield to me!"

All other loves my supreme love embodies;

  I would be she on whose soft bosom nursed

  Thy clinging infant lips to quench their thirst;

She who trod close to hidden worlds where God is,

That she might have, and hold, and see thee first.

I would be she who stirred the vague fond fancies,

  Of thy still childish heart; who through bright days

  Went sporting with thee in the old-time plays,

And caught the sunlight of thy boyish glances

In half-forgotten and long-buried Mays.

Forth to the end, and back to the beginning,

  My love would send its inundating tide,

  Wherein all landmarks of thy past should hide.

If thy life's lesson must be learned through sinning,

  My grieving virtue would become thy guide.

For I would share the burden of thy errors,

  So when the sun of our brief life had set,

  If thou didst walk in darkness and regret,

E'en in that shadowy world of nameless terrors,

My soul and thine should be companions yet.

And I would cross with thee those troubled oceans

  Of dark remorse whose waters are despair:

  All things my jealous reckless love would dare,

So that thou mightst not recollect emotions

In which it did not have a part and share.

There is no limit to my love's full measure,

  Its spirit gold is shaped by earth's alloy;

  I would be friend and mother, mate and toy,

I'd have thee look to me for every pleasure,

And in me find all memories of joy.

Yet though I love thee in such selfish fashion,

  I would wait on thee, sitting at thy feet,

  And serving thee, if thou didst deem it meet.

And couldst thou give me one fond hour of passion,

I'd take that hour and call my life complete.

"I loved you first: but afterwards your love"

I loved you first: but afterwards your love

    Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song

As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove.

    Which owes the other most? my love was long,

    And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong;

I loved and guessed at you, you construed me

And loved me for what might or might not be –

    Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong.

For verily love knows not ‘mine’ or ‘thine;’

    With separate ‘I’ and ‘thou’ free love has done,

         For one is both and both are one in love:

Rich love knows nought of ‘thine that is not mine;’

         Both have the strength and both the length thereof,

Both of us, of the love which makes us one.