Valentines Day
February 14 is the traditional day of love. Lovers profess their feelings for each other. Secret admirers let their feelings become known or act anonymously. Valentine love notes and gifts of candy, chocolate, and flowers are given. Heart-shapes and winged Cupid symbols predominate. Litscape.com has some wonderful romantic poetry, that would be very nice inserted into a Valentines Card or rolled up as a "message in a bottle" to someone special.
Poetry Of Love
The Body Language of Love
The Look Of Love
Poetry for Courtship and Wooing
Passion Poems
The Nature Of Love
The Philosophy Of Love
I Love, and he loves me again,
Yet dare I not tell who:
For if the nymphs should know my swain,
I fear they'd love him too.
Yet while my joy's unknown,
Its rosy buds are but half-blown:
What no one with me shares, seems scarce my own.
I sent my love two roses, -- one
As white as driven snow,
And one a blushing royal red,
A flaming Jacqueminot.
I meant to touch and test my fate;
That night I should divine,
The moment I should see my love,
If her true heart were mine.
How does Love speak?
In the faint flush upon the telltale cheek,
And in the pallor that succeeds it; by
The quivering lid of an averted eye --
The smile that proves the parent to a sigh --
Thus doth Love speak.
How can I wait until you come to me?
The once fleet mornings linger by the way;
Their sunny smiles touched with malicious glee
At my unrest, they seem to pause, and play
Like truant children, while I sigh and say,
How can I wait?
And on nights like this, when my blood runs riot
With the fever of youth and its mad desires,
When my brain in vain bids my heart be quiet,
When my breast seems the centre of lava-fires,
Oh, then is the time when most I miss you,
And I swear by the stars and my soul and say
That I will have you, and hold you, and kiss you,
Though the whole world stands in the way.
O yes, I love you, and with all my heart;
Just as a weaker woman loves her own,
Better than I love my beloved art,
Which, till you came, reigned royally, alone,
My king, my master. Since I saw your face
I have dethroned it, and you hold that place.
All love that has not friendship for its base,
Is like a mansion built upon the sand.
Though brave its walls as any in the land,
And its tall turrets lift their heads in grace;
Though skillful and accomplished artists trace
Most beautiful designs on every hand,
And gleaming statues in dim niches stand,
And fountains play in some flow'r - hidden place,
She touches my cheek, and I quiver -
I tremble with exquisite pains;
She sighs-like an overcharged river
My blood rushes on through my veins;
She smiles-and in mad-tiger fashion,
As a she-tiger fondles her own,
I clasp her with fierceness and passion,
And kiss her with shudder and groan.
Love, when we met, 'twas like two planets meeting,
Strange chaos followed; body, soul, and heart
Seemed shaken, thrilled, and startled by that greeting,
Old ties, old dreams, old aims, all torn apart
And wrenched away, left nothing there the while
But the great shining glory of your smile.
Love much. Earth has enough of bitter in it;
Cast sweets into its cup whene'er you can.
No heart so hard, but love at last may win it;
Love is the grand primeval cause of man;
All hate is foreign to the first great plan.
Love is the centre and circumference;
The cause and aim of all things - 'tis the key
To joy and sorrow, and the recompense
For all the ills that have been, or may be.
Shall we roam, my love,
To the twilight grove,
When the moon is rising bright?
Oh, I'll whisper there,
In the cool night-air,
What I dare not in broad daylight!
To Harriet (Thy look of love ...)
Thy look of love has power to calm
The stormiest passion of my soul;
Thy gentle words are drops of balm
In life's too bitter bowl;
To [Harriet]. (Yet look on me...)
Yet look on me -- take not thine eyes away,
Which feed upon the love within mine own,
Which is indeed but the reflected ray
Of thine own beauty from my spirit thrown.
The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the Ocean,
The winds of Heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine? --
Follow to the deep wood's weeds,...
Follow to the deep wood's weeds,
Follow to the wild-briar dingle,
Where we seek to intermingle,
And the violet tells her tale
To the odour-scented gale,
For they two have enough to do
Of such work as I and you.
I arise from dreams of thee
In the first sweet sleep of night,
When the winds are breathing low,
And the stars are shining bright
I arise from dreams of thee,
And a spirit in my feet
Hath led me -- who knows how?
To thy chamber window, Sweet!
What The Bee Is To The Floweret
What the bee is to the floweret,
When he looks for honey-dew,
Through the leaves that close embow'r it,
That, my love, I'll be to you.
And though my lute no longer
May sing of passion's ardent spell,
Oh! trust me all the stronger,
I feel the bliss I do not tell.
The bee through many a garden roves,
And sings his lay of courtship o'er,
But when he finds the flower he loves,
He settles there, and hums no more.
Then doubt me not -- the reason
Is o'er, when folly kept me free,
And now the vestal Reason,
Shall guard the flame awak'd by thee.
If thou'lt be mine, the treasures of air,
Of earth and sea, shall lie at thy feet;
Whatever in Fancy's eye looks fair,
Or in Hope's sweet music is most sweet,
Shall be ours, if thou wilt be mine, love!
Yet Love hath echoes truer far,
And far more sweet,
Than e'er, beneath the moonlight's star,
Of horn, or lute, or soft guitar,
The songs repeat.
To sigh, yet feel no pain,
To weep, yet scarce know why;
To sport an hour with Beauty's chain,
Then throw it idly by;
To kneel at many a shrine,
Yet lay the heart on none;
To think all other charms divine,
But those we just have won;
This is love, careless love,
Such as kindleth hearts that rove.
Odes To Nea: You read it in my languid eyes...
You read it in my languid eyes,
And there alone should love be read;
You hear me say it all in sighs,
And thus alone should love be said.
Row gently here, my gondolier; So softly wake the tide,
That not an ear on earth may hear, but hers to whom we glide,
Had Heaven but tongues to speak, as well as starry eyes to see,
Oh! think what tales 'twould have to tell of wand'ring youths like me!
If I speak to thee in friendship's name,
Thou think'st I speak too coldly;
If I mention Love's devoted flame,
Thou say'st I speak too boldly.
Between these two unequal fires
Why doom me thus to hover?
I'm a friend, if such thy heart requires,
If more thou seek'st, a lover.
Which shall it be? How shall I woo?
Fair one, choose between the two.
When On The Lip The Sigh Delays
When on the lip the sigh delays,
As if 'twould linger there forever;
When eyes would give the world to gaze,
Yet still look down, and venture never;
When, though with fairest nymphs we rove,
There's one we dream of more than any --
If all this is not real love,
'Tis something wondrous like it, Fanny!
A Spirit there is, whose fragrant sigh
Is burning now through earth and air;
Where cheeks are blushing, the Spirit is nigh,
Where lips are meeting, the Spirit is there!
Down in the valley come meet me to-night,
And I'll tell you your fortune truly
As ever 'twas told, by the new moon's light,
To young maidens shining as newly.
Odes Of Anacreon: Cupid, whose lamp has lent the ray...
Cupid, whose lamp has lent the ray
Which lightens our meandering way,
Cupid within my bosom stealing,
Excites a strange and mingled feeling,
Which pleases, though severely teasing,
And teases, though divinely pleasing!
O, my luve's like a red, red rose,
That's newly sprung in June:
O, my luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly played in tune.
Like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought,
Love gives itself, but is not bought;
Nor voice, nor sound betrays
Its deep, impassioned gaze.
My soul its secret hath, my life too hath its mystery,
A love eternal in a moment's space conceived;
Hopeless the evil is, I have not told its history,
And she who was the cause nor knew it nor believed.
Alas! I shall have passed close by her unperceived,
For ever at her side and yet for ever lonely,
I shall unto the end have made life's journey, only
Daring to ask for nought, and having nought received.
Annie of Tharaw, my riches, my good,
Thou, O my soul, my flesh and my blood!
Then come the wild weather, come sleet, or come snow,
We will stand by each other, however it blow.
The sea hath its pearls,
The heaven hath its stars;
But my heart, my heart,
My heart hath its love.
Who love would seek,
Let him love evermore
And seldom speak;
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