tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2415280303214480272024-02-08T22:16:16.541+08:00Love PoetryA Collection of Love Poems by Lovers for LoversUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger83125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-56952788479094072012011-02-26T16:57:00.002+08:002011-02-26T16:57:18.308+08:00Sonnet for ChristmasBY JUDITH WRIGHT<br />
<br />
I saw our golden years on a black gale,<br />
our time of love spilt in the furious dust.<br />
'O we are winter-caught, and we must fail,'<br />
said the dark dream, 'and time is overcast.'<br />
-And woke into the night; but you were there,<br />
and small as seed in the wild dark we lay.<br />
Small as seed under the gulfs of air<br />
is set the stubborn heart that waits for day.<br />
I saw our love the root that holds the vine<br />
in the enduring earth, that can reply,<br />
'Nothing shall die unless for me it die.<br />
Murder and hate and love alike are mine';<br />
and therefore fear no winter and no storm<br />
while in the knot of earth that root lies warm.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-83361062649252126862011-02-26T16:53:00.003+08:002011-02-26T16:59:11.608+08:00One FleshBY ELIZABETH JENNINGS<br /><br />Lying apart now, each in a separate bed,<br />He with a book, keeping the light on late,<br />She like a girl dreaming of childhood,<br />All men elsewhere - it is as if they wait<br />Some new event: the book he holds unread,<br />Her eyes fixed on the shadows overhead.<br /><br />Tossed up like flotsam from a former passion,<br />How cool they lie. They hardly ever touch,<br />Or if they do, it is like a confession<br />Of having little feeling - or too much.<br />Chastity faces them, a destination<br />For which their whole lives were a preparation.<br /><br />Strangely apart, yet strangely close together,<br />Silence between them like a thread to hold<br />And not wind in. And time itself's a feather<br />Touching them gently. Do they know they're old,<br />These two who are my father and my mother<br />Whose fire from which I came, has now grown cold?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-88288171594814426012011-02-26T16:48:00.000+08:002011-02-26T16:48:17.344+08:00Kiss’d YestreenBY ANONYMOUS<br />
<br />
Kiss’d yestreen, and kiss’d yestreen,<br />
Up the Gallowgate, down the Green:<br />
I’ve woo’d wi’ lords, and woo’d wi’ lairds,<br />
I’ve mool’d wi carles and mell’d wi’ cairds,<br />
I’ve kiss’d wi’ priests— ‘twas done i’ the dark,<br />
Twice in my gown and thrice in my sark;<br />
But priest, nor lord, nor loon can gie<br />
Sic kindly kisses as he gae me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-77767479285531093152010-10-24T15:29:00.001+08:002010-10-24T15:29:20.195+08:00Two TruthsBY HELEN HUNT JACKSON<br /><br />'Darling,' he said, 'I never meant<br />...To hurt you;' and his eyes were wet.<br />'I would not hurt you for the world:<br />...Am I to blame if I forget?'<br /><br />'Forgive my selfish tears!' she cried,<br />...'Forgive! I knew that it was not<br />Because you meant to hurt me, sweet---<br />...I knew it was that you forgot!'<br /><br />But all the same, deep in her heart<br />...Rankled this thought, and rankles yet,---<br />'When love is at its best, one loves<br />...So much that he cannot forget.'Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-58671542874226971852010-10-08T22:35:00.001+08:002010-10-08T22:43:05.826+08:00AttractionBY ELLA WHEELER WILCOX<br /><br />The meadow and the mountain with desire<br />Gazed on each other, till a fierce unrest<br />Surged 'neath the meadow's seemingly calm breast,<br />And all the mountain's fissures ran with fire.<br />A mighty river rolled between them there.<br />What could the mountain do but gaze and burn?<br />What could the meadow do but look and yearn,<br />And gem its bosom to conceal despair?<br />Their seething passion agitated space,<br />Till lo! the lands a sudden earthquake shook,<br />The river fled: the meadow leaped, and took<br />The leaning mountain in a close embrace.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-78830058903377233962010-10-08T21:51:00.003+08:002010-10-08T21:52:20.583+08:00MarriageBY MARY COLERIDGE<br /><br />No more alone sleeping, no more alone waking,<br />Thy dreams divided, thy prayers in twain;<br />Thy merry sisters tonight forsaking,<br />Never shall we see, maiden, again.<br />Never shall we see thee, thine eyes glancing,<br />Flashing with laughter and wild in glee,<br />Under the mistletoe kissing and dancing,<br />Wantonly free.<br />There shall come a matron walking sedately,<br />Low-voiced, gentle, wise in reply.<br />Tell me, O tell me, can I love her greatly?<br />All for her sake must the maiden die!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-82226795092913916712010-10-08T21:49:00.001+08:002010-10-08T22:57:09.666+08:00The GiftBY SARA TEASDALE<br /><br />What can I give you, my lord, my lover,<br />You who have given the world to me,<br />Showed me the light and the joy that cover<br />The wild sweet earth and the restless sea?<br />All that I have are gifts for your giving-<br />If I gave them again, you would find them old,<br />And your soul would weary of always living<br />Before the mirror my life would hold.<br />What shall I give you, my lord, my lover?<br />The gift that breaks the heart in me:<br />I bid you awake at dawn and discover<br />I have gone my way and left you free.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-21313499109828061582010-10-08T21:40:00.001+08:002010-10-08T21:40:52.146+08:00The Farmer's BrideBY CHARLOTTE MEW<br />
<br />
Three Summers since I chose a maid,<br />
Too young maybe - but more's to do<br />
At harvest-time than bide and woo.<br />
When us was wed she turned afraid<br />
Of love and me and all things human;<br />
Like the shut of a winter's day.<br />
Her smile went out, and 'twasn't a woman--<br />
More like a little, frightened fay.<br />
One night, in the Fall, she runned away.<br />
<br />
"Out 'mong the sheep, her be," they said,<br />
'Should properly have been abed;<br />
But sure enough she wasn't there<br />
Lying awake with her wide brown stare.<br />
So over seven-acre field and up-along across the down<br />
We chased her, flying like a hare<br />
Before our lanterns. To Church-Town<br />
All in a shiver and a scare<br />
We caught her, fetched her home at last<br />
And turned the key upon her, fast.<br />
<br />
She does the work about the house<br />
As well as most, but like a mouse:<br />
Happy enough to chat and play<br />
With birds and rabbits and such as they,<br />
So long as men-folk stay away.<br />
"Not near, not near!" her eyes beseech<br />
When one of us comes within reach.<br />
The women say that beasts in stall<br />
Look round like children at her call.<br />
I've hardly heard her speak at all.<br />
<br />
Shy as a leveret, swift as he,<br />
Straight and slight as a young larch tree,<br />
Sweet as the first wild violets, she,<br />
To her wild self. But what to me?<br />
<br />
The short days shorten and the oaks are brown,<br />
The blue smoke rises to the low gray sky,<br />
One leaf in the still air falls slowly down,<br />
A magpie's spotted feathers lie<br />
On the black earth spread white with rime,<br />
The berries redden up to Christmas-time.<br />
What's Christmas-time without there be<br />
Some other in the house than we!<br />
<br />
She sleeps up in the attic there<br />
Alone, poor maid. 'Tis but a stair<br />
Betwixt us. Oh, my God! - the down,<br />
The soft young down of her; the brown,<br />
The brown of her - her eyes, her hair, her hair!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-63411813311604500842010-10-04T20:43:00.001+08:002010-10-04T20:43:12.788+08:00To CupidBY JOANNA BAILLIE<br /><br />Child, with many a childish wile,<br />Timid look, and blushing smile,<br />Downy wings to steal the way,<br />Guilded bow, and quiver gay,<br />Who in thy simple mien would trace<br />The tyrant of the human race?<br /><br />Who is he whose flinty heart<br />Hath not felt the flying dart?<br />Who is he that from the wound<br />Hath not pain and pleasure found?<br />Who is he that hath not shed<br />Curse and blessing on thy head?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-83224242032995322272010-10-04T20:40:00.002+08:002010-10-04T20:41:01.121+08:00SongBY MARY WROTH<br /><br />Love, a child, is ever crying,<br />Please him, and he straight is flying;<br />Give him, he there more is craving,<br />Never satisfied with having.<br /><br />His desires have no measure,<br />Endless folly is his treasure;<br />What he promiseth he breaketh;<br />Trust not one word that he speaketh.<br /><br />He vows nothing but false matter,<br />And to cozen you he'll flatter;<br />Let him gain the hand, he'll leave you,<br />And still glory to deceive you.<br /><br />He will triumph in your wailing,<br />And yet cause be of your failing;<br />These his virtues are, and slighter<br />Are his gifts, his favours lighter.<br /><br />Feathers are as firm in staying,<br />Wolves no fiercer in their preying.<br />As a child then leave him crying,<br />Nor seek him, so giv'n to flying.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-35184448883759990902010-10-04T20:36:00.003+08:002010-10-04T20:40:01.101+08:00(From) Aspects of LoveBY RUTH MILLER<br /><br />Love? We should smother it<br />And push it up the chimney-<br />He said, half meaning it.<br />We know now what he intended<br />For finding love at their door<br />On a cold night, people-if they are wise-<br />Will push it up the chimny into the smoke before<br />It wails at them with such clenched desire<br />As will bring into the quiet house<br />The significant ecstatic loss.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-15863907033135132222010-09-29T19:57:00.002+08:002010-09-29T19:57:35.597+08:00Cupid LostBY MARY WROTH<br /><br />-Late in the Forest I did Cupid See<br />...Colde, wet, and crying he had lost his way,<br />...And being blind was farther like to stray:<br />...Which sight a kind compassion bred in me,<br /><br />I kindly took, and dried him, while that he<br />...Poor child complain'd he starved was with stay,<br />...And pined for want of his accustom'd play,<br />...For none in that wild place his host would be,<br /><br />I glad was of his finding, thinking sure<br />...This service should my freedom still procure,<br />...And in my arms I took him then unharmed,<br /><br />Carrying him safe unto a myrtle bower<br />...But in the way he made me feel his power,<br />...Burning my heart who had him kindly warmed.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-11725241361541160392010-09-29T19:55:00.003+08:002010-09-29T19:55:34.134+08:00(From) A ValentineBY ELIZABETH TREFUSIS<br /><br />When to Love's influence woman yields,<br />She loves for life! and daily feels<br />Progressive tenderness!--each hour<br />Confirms, extends, the tyrant's power!<br />Her lover is her god! her fate!--<br />Vain pleasures, riches, wordly state,<br />Are trifles all!--each sacrifice<br />Becomes a dear and valued prize,<br />If made for him, e'en tho' he proves<br />Forgetful of their former loves!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-24992515852524985642010-09-29T19:52:00.002+08:002010-09-29T19:52:47.092+08:00Pastoral DialogueBY ANNE KILLIGREW<br />
<br />
Remember when you love, from that same hour<br />
Your peace you put into your lover’s power;<br />
From that same hour from him you laws receive,<br />
And as he shall ordain, you joy, or grieve,<br />
Hope, fear, laugh, weep; Reason aloof does stand,<br />
Disabled both to act, and to command.<br />
Oh cruel fetters! rather wish to feel<br />
On your soft limbs, the galling weight of steel;<br />
Rather to bloody wounds oppose your breast.<br />
No ill, by which the body can be pressed<br />
You will so sensible a torment find<br />
As shackles on your captived mind.<br />
The mind from heaven its high descent did draw,<br />
And brooks uneasily any other law<br />
Than what from Reason dictated shall be.<br />
Reason, a kind of innate deity,<br />
Which only can adapt to ev’ry soul<br />
A yoke so fit and light, that the control<br />
All liberty excels; so sweet a sway,<br />
The same ’tis to be happy, and obey;<br />
Commands so wise, and with rewards so dressed,<br />
That the according soul replies “I’m blessed.”Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-85116118146264534292010-09-29T19:50:00.002+08:002010-09-29T19:50:43.952+08:00Love LetterBY SYLVIA PLATH<br /><br />Not easy to state the change you made.<br />If I'm alive now, then I was dead,<br />Though, like a stone, unbothered by it,<br />Staying put according to habit.<br />You didn't just tow me an inch, no--<br />Nor leave me to set my small bald eye<br />Skyward again, without hope, of course,<br />Of apprehending blueness, or stars.<br /><br />That wasn't it. I slept, say: a snake<br />Masked among black rocks as a black rock<br />In the white hiatus of winter--<br />Like my neighbors, taking no pleasure<br />In the million perfectly-chisled<br />Cheeks alighting each moment to melt<br />My cheeks of basalt. They turned to tears,<br />Angels weeping over dull natures,<br />But didn't convince me. Those tears froze.<br />Each dead head had a visor of ice.<br /><br />And I slept on like a bent finger.<br />The first thing I was was sheer air<br />And the locked drops rising in dew<br />Limpid as spirits. Many stones lay<br />Dense and expressionless round about.<br />I didn't know what to make of it.<br />I shone, mice-scaled, and unfolded<br />To pour myself out like a fluid<br />Among bird feet and the stems of plants.<br />I wasn't fooled. I knew you at once.<br /><br />Tree and stone glittered, without shadows.<br />My finger-length grew lucent as glass.<br />I started to bud like a March twig:<br />An arm and a leg, and arm, a leg.<br />From stone to cloud, so I ascended.<br />Now I resemble a sort of god<br />Floating through the air in my soul-shift<br />Pure as a pane of ice. It's a gift.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-73007417458868670222010-09-23T22:29:00.000+08:002010-09-23T22:29:35.216+08:00VisionBY MAY THIELGAARD WATTS<br />
<br />
To-day there have been lovely things<br />
I never saw before;<br />
Sunlight through a jar of marmalade;<br />
A blue gate;<br />
A rainbow<br />
In soapsuds on dishwater;<br />
Candelight on butter;<br />
The crinkled smile of a little girl<br />
Who had new shoes with tassels;<br />
A chickadee on a thorn-apple;<br />
Empurpled mud under a willow,<br />
Where white geese slept;<br />
White ruffled curtains sifting moonlight<br />
On the scrubbed kitchen floor;<br />
The under side of a white-oak leaf;<br />
Ruts in the road at sunset:<br />
An egg yolk in a blue bowl.<br />
<br />
My love kissed my eyes last night.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-12716965298557806592010-09-17T08:17:00.003+08:002010-09-17T08:18:59.097+08:00A BirthdayBY CHRISTINA ROSSETTI<br />
<br />
My heart is like a singing bird<br />
Whose nest is in a watered shoot;<br />
My heart is like an apple tree<br />
Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;<br />
My heart is like a rainbow shell<br />
That paddles in a halcyon sea;<br />
My heart is gladder than all these<br />
Because my love is come to me.<br />
Raise me a dais of silk and down;<br />
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;<br />
Carve it in doves, and pomegranates,<br />
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;<br />
Work it in gold and silver grapes,<br />
In leaves, and silver fleurs-de-lys;<br />
Because the birthday of my life<br />
Is come, my love is come to me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-91839857717582086412010-09-17T07:21:00.003+08:002010-09-17T07:21:54.072+08:00The QuestBY DENISE LEVERTOV<br /><br />High, hollowed in green<br />above the rocks of reason<br />lies the crater lake<br />whose ice the dreamer breaks<br />to find a summer season.<br /><br />'He will plunge like a plummet down<br />far into hungry tides'<br />they cry, but as the sea<br />climbs to a lunar magnet<br />so the dreamer pursues<br />the lake where love resides.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-80804828264080634092010-09-17T07:20:00.001+08:002010-09-17T07:20:25.962+08:00A SongBY ANNE FINCH<br /><br />Love, thou art best of Human Joys,<br /> Our chiefest Happiness below;<br />All other Pleasures are but Toys,<br />Musick without Thee is but Noise,<br /> And Beauty but an empty show.<br /><br />Heav’n , who knew best what Man wou’d move,<br /> And raise his Thoughts above the Brute;<br />Said, Let him Be, and Let him Love;<br />That must alone his Soul improve,<br /> Howe’er Philosophers dispute.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-81553055820207055722010-09-12T00:46:00.002+08:002010-09-12T00:47:51.897+08:00Saddest Poem<div>BY PABLO NERUDA</div><div><br /></div>Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars,<br />and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."<br /><br />The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.<br /><br />I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.<br />I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.<br /><br />On nights like this, I held her in my arms.<br />I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.<br /><br />She loved me, sometimes I loved her.<br />How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?<br /><br />I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.<br />To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.<br /><br />To hear the immense night, more immense without her.<br />And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.<br /><br />What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.<br />The night is full of stars and she is not with me.<br /><br />That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.<br />My soul is lost without her.<br /><br />As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.<br />My heart searches for her and she is not with me.<br /><br />The same night that whitens the same trees.<br />We, we who were, we are the same no longer.<br /><br />I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.<br />My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.<br /><br />Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once<br />belonged to my kisses.<br />Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.<br /><br />I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.<br />Love is so short and oblivion so long.<br /><br />Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,<br />my soul is lost without her.<br /><br />Although this may be the last pain she causes me,<br />and this may be the last poem I write for her.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-55468914110522072092010-09-12T00:43:00.002+08:002010-09-12T00:44:48.352+08:00I RememberBY ANNE SEXTON<br /><br />By the first of August<br />the invisible beetles began<br />to snore and the grass was<br />as tough as hemp and was<br />no color—no more than<br />the sand was a color and<br />we had worn our bare feet<br />bare since the twentieth<br />of June and there were times<br />we forgot to wind up your<br />alarm clock and some nights<br />we took our gin warm and neat<br />from old jelly glasses while<br />the sun blew out of sight<br />like a red picture hat and<br />one day I tied my hair back<br />with a ribbon and you said<br />that I looked almost like<br />a puritan lady and what<br />I remember best is that<br />the door to your room was<br />the door to mine.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-76900258136669532232010-09-12T00:41:00.002+08:002010-09-12T00:42:00.008+08:00I Would Live In Your LoveBY SARA TEASDALE<br /><br />I would live in your love as the sea-grasses live in the sea,<br />Borne up by each wave as it passes, drawn down by each wave that recedes;<br />I would empty my soul of the dreams that have gathered in me,<br />I would beat with your heart as it beats, I would follow your soul as it leads.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-85866991399957386142010-09-12T00:32:00.001+08:002010-09-12T00:32:44.270+08:00SongBY APHRA BEHN<br />
<br />
O Love! that stronger art than wine,<br />
Pleasing delusion, witchery divine,<br />
Wont to be prized above all wealth,<br />
Disease that has more joys than health;<br />
Though we blaspheme thee in our pain,<br />
And of thy tyranny complain,<br />
We are all bettered by they reign.<br />
<br />
What reason never can bestow<br />
We to this useful passion owe;<br />
Love wakes the dull from sluggish ease,<br />
And learns a clown the art to please,<br />
Humbles the vain, kindles the cold,<br />
Makes misers free, and cowards bold;<br />
’Tis he reforms the sot from drink,<br />
And teaches airy fops to think.<br />
<br />
When full brute appetite is fed,<br />
And choked the glutton lies and dead,<br />
Thou new spirits dost dispense<br />
And ’finest the gross delights of sense:<br />
Virtue’s unconquerable aid<br />
That against Nature can persuade,<br />
And makes a roving mind retire<br />
Within the bounds of just desire;<br />
Cheerer of age, youth’s kind unrest,<br />
And half the heaven of the blest!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-69961240613586739732010-09-09T19:55:00.001+08:002010-09-09T19:55:26.221+08:00Uphold MeBY KAREN GERSHON<br />
<br />
And still my feelings sprout richest<br />
in the furrow ploughed by my father:<br />
caress me as a daughter<br />
to gather a total harvest.<br />
I accept you with every blemish<br />
as I did the man in my childhood<br />
as a measure of my own value;<br />
be David to make me Bathsheba,<br />
elaborate me with legends,<br />
uphold me in the image<br />
I formed of myself when I was<br />
indomitable like grass<br />
and passion lay fallow.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-241528030321448027.post-39597978433591015622010-09-09T19:51:00.003+08:002010-09-09T19:52:07.372+08:00The Sea's Wash In The Hollow Of The Heart...BY DENISE LEVERTOV<br />
<br />
Turn from that road's beguiling ease; return<br />
to your hunger's turret. Enter, climb the stair<br />
chill with disuse, where the croaking toad of time<br />
regards from shimmering eyes your slow ascent<br />
and the drip, drip, of darkness glimmers on the stone<br />
to show you how your longing waits alone.<br />
What alchemy shines from under that shut door,<br />
spinning out gold from the hollow of the heart?<br />
<br />
Enter the turret of your love, and lie<br />
close in the arms of the sea; let in new suns<br />
that beat and echo in the mind like sounds<br />
risen from sunken cities lost to fear;<br />
let in the light that answers your desire<br />
awakening at midnight with the fire,<br />
until its magic burns the wavering sea<br />
and flames carress the windows of your tower.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0