Love poems
/ page 7 of 1285 /Song of the Indian Maid
© John Keats
O SORROW!
Why dost borrow
The natural hue of health, from vermeil lips?¡ª
To give maiden blushes
To the white rose bushes? 5
Or is it thy dewy hand the daisy tips?
His Excuse for Loving
© Benjamin Jonson
Let it not your wonder move,
Less your laughter, that I love.
Flattery
© Allama Muhammad Iqbal
My home if you come
That shall be my honor!
That ladder in the front
Will reach you to your friend
Crow's Theology
© Ted Hughes
Crow realized God loved him-
Otherwise, he would have dropped dead.
So that was proved.
Crow reclined, marvelling, on his heart-beat.
Crow Goes Hunting
© Ted Hughes
He imagined some words for the job, a lovely pack-
Clear-eyed, resounding, well-trained,
With strong teeth.
You could not find a better bred lot.
The Harvest Bow
© Seamus Justin Heaney
As you plaited the harvest bow
You implicated the mellowed silence in you
In wheat that does not rust
But brightens as it tightens twist by twist
Into a knowable corona,
A throwaway love-knot of straw.
I Hardly Remember
© Robert Graves
I hardly remember your voice, but the pain of you
floats in some remote current of my blood.
I carry you in my depths, trapped in the sludge
like one of those corpses the sea refuses to give up.
Complaint of the Skeleton to Time
© Allen Ginsberg
Take my love, it is not true,
So let it tempt no body new;
Take my lady, she will sigh
For my bed where'er I lie;
Take them, said the skeleton,
Take, Oh Take Those Lips Away
© John Gould Fletcher
Take, oh take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn,
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn:
But my kisses bring again,
Seals of love, but sealed in vain.
Hence, All You Vain Delights from the Nice Valour
© John Gould Fletcher
Hence, all you vain delights,
As short as are the nights
Aspatia's Song
© John Gould Fletcher
LAY a garland on my herse
Of the dismal yew;
Maidens, willow branches bear;
Say, I died true.
to be a poet
© Florbela Espanca
To be a poet is to be louder , bigger
Than men! Biting as who kisses!
It is like being a beggar and to give whoever be
King of the Kingdom of Behind and Beyond Pain!
What Is Love..
© Mihai Eminescu
What is love ? A lifetime spent
Of days that pain does fill,
That thousand tears can't content,
But asks for tears still.