Love poems
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Letter to My Lover After Seven Years
© Erica Jong
You gave me the child
that seamed my belly
& stitched up my life.
The Secret
© Robert Laurence Binyon
I
I lay upon my bed in the great night:
The sense of my body drowsed;
But a clearness yet lingered in the spirit,
By soft obscurity housed.
Henry James in the Heart of the City
© Erica Jong
Nothing would surprise him.
The beast in the jungle was what he saw--
Edith Wharton's obfuscating older brother. . .
To Charles Lloyd: An Unexpected Visitor
© Charles Lamb
Alone, obscure, without a friend,
A cheerless, solitary thing,
Why seeks, my Lloyd, the stranger out?
What offering can the stranger bring
Dear Colette
© Erica Jong
Dear Colette,
I want to write to you
about being a woman
for that is what you write to me.
Climbing You
© Erica Jong
I climb into your eyes, looking.
The pupils are black painted stage flats.
They can be pulled down like window shades.
I switch on a light in your iris.
Your brain ticks like a bomb.
Beast, Book, Body
© Erica Jong
The white bed
in the green garden--
I looked forward
to sleeping alone
the way some long
for a lover.
Costanza
© Felicia Dorothea Hemans
She knelt in prayer. A stream of sunset fell
Thro' the stain'd window of her lonely cell,
And with its rich, deep, melancholy glow
Flushing her cheek and pale Madonna brow,
After the Earthquake
© Erica Jong
After the first astounding rush,
after the weeks at the lake,
the crystal, the clouds, the water lapping the rocks,
the snow breaking under our boots like skin,
& the long mornings in bed. . .
Lullaby; By The Sea
© Eugene Field
Fair is the castle up on the hill-
Hushaby, sweet my own!
The night is fair, and the waves are still,
And the wind is singing to you and to me
In this lowly home beside the sea-
Hushaby, sweet my own!
Polytheist
© Lesbia Harford
One comes to love the little saints,
As years go by.
One learns to love the little saints.
"O hear me sigh,
Freedom of Love
© André Breton
(Translated from the French by Edouard Rodti)My wife with the hair of a wood fire
With the thoughts of heat lightning
With the waist of an hourglass
With the waist of an otter in the teeth of a tiger
Always For The First Time
© André Breton
Always for the first time
Hardly do I know you by sight
You return at some hour of the night to a house at an angle to my window
A wholly imaginary house
The Stars Are Mansions Built By Nature's Hand
© William Wordsworth
The stars are mansions built by Nature's hand,
And, haply, there the spirits of the blest
Orpheus
© Percy Bysshe Shelley
What wondrous sound is that, mournful and faint,
But more melodious than the murmuring wind
Which through the columns of a temple glides?
