Love poems

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1285

February 14

© Hamilton Jane Eaton

Above me you turn like an acrobaton blue string,your feet small and accurate.You are so far away.My love is not enough to pull youthrough the landscaped skyto this night-wet garden.

Pascal's Wager

© Hall Kate

'If God does not exist, one will lose nothing by believing in him, whileif he does exist, one will lose everything by not believing.'-- Blaise Pascal

Mary had a little lamb, Its fleece was white as snow,And every where that Mary went The lamb was sure to go;He followed her to school one day -- That was against the rule,It made the children laugh and play To see a lamb at school

[Did you love well what very soon you left?]

© Marilyn Hacker

Did you well what very soon you left?Come home and take me in your arms and take

Sex

© Guiterman Arthur

Amœbas at the start Were not complex;They tore themselves apart And started Sex.

Rags and Robes

© Whitney Adeline Dutton Train

"Hark, hark! The dogs do bark;Beggars are coming to town: Some in rags, Some in tags,And some in velvet gowns!"

The Passionate Suburbanite To His Love

© Guiterman Arthur

Commute with me, my Love, and be merry; How vain in the City to dwellWhen apple-trees blow in Dobbs' Ferry And lilacs adorn New Rochelle!White Plains is the Garden of Allah And Pelham's the Pearl of the Sea;There's bliss in the name of Valhalla -- Oh, fly to the Suburbs with me!

Then won't you commute on my family ticket?To Westchester County we'll flee

Our Suburb

© Guiterman Arthur

Our Garden Spot is always bright and pretty (Of course it's rather soggy when it rains),And only thirty minutes from the city (Of course you have to catch the proper trains)

Nocturne

© Guiterman Arthur

The three-toed tree-toadSings his sweet ode To the moon;The funny bunnyAnd his honey Trip in tune

Caelica: Sonnet 22

© Fulke Greville

I, with whose colours Myra dress'd her head, I, that ware posies of her own hand-making,I, that mine own name in the chimneys read By Myra finely wrought ere I was waking: Must I look on, in hope time coming may With change bring back my turn again to play?

I, that on Sunday at the church-stile found A garland sweet, with true-love knots in flowers,Which I to wear about mine arm was bound, That each of us might know that all was ours: Must I now lead an idle life in wishes, And follow Cupid for his loaves and fishes?

I, that did wear the ring her mother left, I, for whose love she gloried to be blamed,I, with whose eyes her eyes committed theft, I, who did make her blush when I was named: Must I lose ring, flowers, blush, theft, and go naked, Watching with sighs till dead love be awaked?

I, that, when drowsy Argus fell asleep, Like jealousy o'erwatched with desire,Was even warned modesty to keep, While her breath, speaking, kindled Nature's fire: Must I look on a-cold, while others warm them? Do Vulcan's brothers in such fine nets arm them?

Was it for this that I might Myra see Washing the water with her beauties white?Yet would she never write her love to me

The Years

© Greene Richard

For Cyril Pine

Pachelbel’s Canon

© Greene Richard

Is there a word or the fading of a noteas it leaves the string and nothing follows

Over the Border

© Greene Richard

II. Austin

At the College

Serpentine, the path unwinds its innocencefrom building to building in flickering shadewhere my students feed lazy raccoons muffins

What's the Matter with Love

© Green Lil

You got me feeling sadThe worst feelingI ever had

Mane Nobiscum Domine

Stay with us, Lord, the day is travelled far;we meet thee at its close.Lord, at our humble table sit and share,and be, our sweet repose.

The Flying Fish

Magnae Deus potentiaequi fertili natos aquapartim relinquis gurgitipartim levas in aera.

My Love’s an Arbutus

My love's an arbutusBy the borders of Lene,So slender and shapelyIn her girdle of green;And I measure the pleasureOf her eye's sapphire sheenBy the blue skies that sparkleThrough that soft branching screen

My Dear and Only Love

© James Graham

My dear and only Love, I pray This noble world of theeBe govern'd by no other sway But purest monarchy;For if confusion have a part, Which virtuous souls abhor,And hold a synod in thy heart, I'll never love thee more