Love poems
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Have Me
© Carl Sandburg
HAVE me in the blue and the sun.
Have me on the open sea and the mountains.
When I go into the grass of the sea floor, I will go alone.
From The Shore
© Carl Sandburg
A LONE gray bird,
Dim-dipping, far-flying,
Alone in the shadows and grandeurs and tumults
Of night and the sea
And the stars and storms.
For You
© Carl Sandburg
THE PEACE of great doors be for you.
Wait at the knobs, at the panel oblongs.
Wait for the great hinges.
Choices
© Carl Sandburg
They offer you many things,
I a few.
Moonlight on the play of fountains at night
With water sparkling a drowsy monotone,
Blue Ridge
© Carl Sandburg
BORN a million years ago you stay here a million years
watching the women come and live and be laid away
you and they thin-gray thin-dusk lovely.
So it goes: either the early morning lights are lovely or the early morning star.
I am glad I have seen racehorses, women, mountains.
Dream Girl
© Carl Sandburg
YOU will come one day in a waver of love,
Tender as dew, impetuous as rain,
The tan of the sun will be on your skin,
The purr of the breeze in your murmuring speech,
You will pose with a hill-flower grace.
Cups of Coffee
© Carl Sandburg
THE HAGGARD woman with a hacking cough and a deathless love whispers of white
flowers
in your poem you pour like a cup of coffee, Gabriel.
The slim girl whose voice was lost in the waves of flesh piled on her bones
and
Bricklayer Love
© Carl Sandburg
I THOUGHT of killing myself because I am only a bricklayer and you a woman who loves the man who runs a drug store.
I dont care like I used to; I lay bricks straighter than I used to and I sing slower handling the trowel afternoons.
Joy
© Carl Sandburg
Let a joy keep you.
Reach out your hands
And take it when it runs by,
As the Apache dancer
Hate
© Carl Sandburg
ONE man killed another. The saying between them had been Id give you the shirt off my back.
The killer wept over the dead. The dead if he looks back knows the killer was sorry. It was a shot in one second of hate out of ten years of love.
Why is the sun a red ball in the six oclock mist?
Why is the moon a tumbling chimney?
tumbling
tumbling
Id give you the shirt off my back
And Ill kill you if my head goes wrong.
Skyscraper
© Carl Sandburg
Hour by hour the caissons reach down to the rock of the
earth and hold the building to a turning planet.
Hour by hour the girders play as ribs and reach out and
hold together the stone walls and floors.
A Certain Kind of Holy Men
© Alden Nowlan
Not every wino is a Holy Man.
Oh, but some of them are.
I love those who've learned
to sit comfortably
Lolotte, Who Attires My Hair
© Jessie Redmon Fauset
Lolotte, who attires my hair,
Lost her lover. Lolotte weeps;
Trails her hand before her eyes;
Hangs her head and mopes and sighs,
Susana Soca
© Jorge Luis Borges
With lingering love she gazed at the dispersed
Colors of dusk. It pleased her utterly
To lose herself in the complex melody
Or in the cunous life to be found in verse.
The Other Tiger
© Jorge Luis Borges
A tiger comes to mind. The twilight here
Exalts the vast and busy Library
And seems to set the bookshelves back in gloom;
Innocent, ruthless, bloodstained, sleek
Adam Cast Forth
© Jorge Luis Borges
Was there a Garden or was the Garden a dream?
Amid the fleeting light, I have slowed myself and queried,
Almost for consolation, if the bygone period
Over which this Adam, wretched now, once reigned supreme,
Browning Decides To Be A Poet
© Jorge Luis Borges
in these red labyrinths of London
I find that I have chosen
the strangest of all callings,
save that, in its way, any calling is strange.
To A Cat
© Jorge Luis Borges
Mirrors are not more silent
nor the creeping dawn more secretive;
in the moonlight, you are that panther
we catch sight of from afar.
That One
© Jorge Luis Borges
Oh days devoted to the useless burden
of putting out of mind the biography
of a minor poet of the Southem Hemisphere,
to whom the fates or perhaps the stars have given
