Romantic
Love Poems, Love Poem
‘Wild Nights’ by Emily Dickinson
Wild
nights! Wild nights!
Were I
with thee,
Wild
nights should be
Our
luxury!
Futile
the winds
To a
heart in port,
Done with
the compass,
Done with
the chart.
Rowing in
Eden!
Ah! the
sea!
Might I
but moor
To-night
in thee!
‘We Are Made One with What We Touch and See’
by Oscar Wilde
We shall
be notes in that great Symphony
Whose
cadence circles through the rhythmic spheres,
And all
the live World’s throbbing heart shall be
One with
our heart, the stealthy creeping years
Have lost
their terrors now, we shall not die,
The
Universe itself shall be our Immortality!
Bright Star’ by John Keats
Bright
star, would I were stedfast as thou art–
Not in
lone splendour hung aloft the night
And
watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like
nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,
The
moving waters at their priestlike task
Of pure
ablution round earth’s human shores,
Or gazing
on the new soft-fallen mask
Of snow
upon the mountains and the moors–
No–yet
still stedfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow’d
upon my fair love’s ripening breast,
To feel
for ever its soft fall and swell,
Awake for
ever in a sweet unrest,
Still,
still to hear her tender-taken breath,
And so
live ever–or else swoon to death.
Another Valentine’ by Wendy Cope
Today we
are obliged to be romantic
And think
of yet another valentine.
We know
the rules and we are both pedantic:
Today’s
the day we have to be romantic.
Our love
is old and sure, not new and frantic.
You know
I’m yours and I know you are mine.
And
saying that has made me feel romantic,
My
dearest love, my darling valentine.
A Drinking Song by W.B. Yeats
Wine
comes in at the mouth
And love
comes in at the eye;
That’s
all we shall know for truth
Before we
grow old and die.
I lift
the glass to my mouth,
I look at
you, and I sigh.
Valentine’ by John Fuller
The
things about you I appreciate may seem indelicate:
I’d like
to find you in the shower
And chase
the soap for half an hour.
I’d like
to have you in my power and see your eyes dilate.
I’d like
to have your back to scour
And other
parts to lubricate.
Sometimes
I feel it is my fate
To chase
you screaming up a tower or make you cower
By asking
you to differentiate Nietzsche from Schopenhauer.
I’d like
to successfully guess your weight and win you at a féte.
I’d like
to offer you a flower.
‘Love Is’ by Adrian Henri
Love is…
Love is
feeling cold in the back of vans
Love is a
fanclub with only two fans
Love is
walking holding paintstained hands
Love is.
Love is
fish and chips on winter nights
Love is
blankets full of strange delights
Love is
when you don’t put out the light
Love is
Love is
the presents in Christmas shops
Love is
when you’re feeling Top of the Pops
Love is
what happens when the music stops
Love is
Love is
white panties lying all forlorn
Love is
pink nightdresses still slightly warm
Love is
when you have to leave at dawn
Love is
Love is
you and love is me
Love is
prison and love is free
Love’s
what’s there when you are away from me
Love is…
How Do I Love Thee by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I
love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love
thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul
can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the
ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love
thee to the level of everyday’s
Most
quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love
thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love
thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love
thee with a passion put to use
In my old
griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love
thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my
lost saints, — I love thee with the breath,
Smiles,
tears, of all my life! — and, if God choose,
I shall
but love thee better after death.
A Red, Red Rose’ by Robert Burns
O my
Luve’s like a red, red rose,
That’s
newly sprung in June:
O my
Luve’s like the melodie,
That’s
sweetly play’d in tune.
As fair
art thou, my bonie lass,
So deep
in luve am I;
And I
will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’
the seas gang dry.
Till a’
the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the
rocks melt wi’ the sun;
And I
will luve thee still, my dear,
While the
sands o’ life shall run.
And
fare-thee-weel, my only Luve!
And
fare-thee-weel, a while!
And I
will come again, my Luve,
Tho’
’twere ten thousand mile!
Love Sonnet 130’ by William
Shakespeare
My
mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is
far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow
be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs
be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have
seen roses damask’d, red and white,
But no
such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in
some perfumes is there more delight
Than in
the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to
hear her speak, yet well I know
That
music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I
never saw a goddess go;
My
mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet,
by heaven, I think my love as rare
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