love poems

The South Wind laid his moccasins aside,
Broke his gay calumet of flow'rs, and cast
His useless wampun, beaded with cool dews,
Far from him, northward; his long, ruddy spear
Flung sunward, whence it came, and his soft locks
Of warm, fine haze grew silver as the birch.
His wigwam of green leaves began to shake;
The crackling rice-beds scolded harsh like squaws:
The small ponds pouted up their silver lips;
The great lakes ey'd the mountains, whisper'd 'Ugh!'
'Are ye so tall, O chiefs? Not taller than

Max plac'd a ring on little Katie's hand,
A silver ring that he had beaten out
From that same sacred coin--first well-priz'd wage
For boyish labour, kept thro' many years.
'See, Kate,' he said, 'I had no skill to shape
Two hearts fast bound together, so I grav'd
Just K. and M., for Katie and for Max.'
'But, look; you've run the lines in such a way,
That M. is part of K., and K. of M.,'
Said Katie, smiling. 'Did you mean it thus?
I like it better than the double hearts.'
'Well, well,' he said, 'but womankind is wise!

An upright abutment in the mouth
of the Willis Avenue bridge
a beige Honda leaps the divider
like a steel gazelle inescapable
sleek leather boots on the pavement
rat-a-tat-tat best intentions
going down for the third time
stuck in the particular

You cannot make love to concrete
if you care about being
non-essential wrong or worn thin
if you fear ever becoming
diamonds or lard
you cannot make love to concrete
if you cannot pretend
concrete needs your loving

The sweet, fresh, red rose
of a maiden's heart
That opes in the dewy
ecstasy of love.

True to their word the sons of Pandu went with Draupadi into exile,
and passed twelve years in the wilderness; and many were the
incidents which checkered their forest life. Krishna, who had stood
by Yudhishthir in his prosperity, now came to visit him in his
adversity; he consoled Draupadi in her distress, and gave good advice
to the brothers. Draupadi with a woman's pride and anger still
thought of her wrongs and insults, and urged Yudhishthir to disregard
the conditions of exile and recover his kingdom. Bhima too was of the

mohabbat ka junuu.N baaqii nahii.n hai
musalamaano.n me.n Khuun baaqii nahii.n hai


safe.n kaj, dil pareshan, sajdaa bezuuk
ke jazabaa-e-a.ndruun baaqii nahii.n hai


rago.n me.n lahuu baaqii nahii.n hai
wo dil, wo aawaaz baaqii nahii.n hai


namaaz-o-rozaa-o-qurbaanii-o-haj
ye sab baaqii hai tuu baaqii nahii.n hai

Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind does move
Silently, invisibly.

I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart;
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears,
Ah! she did depart!

Soon as she was gone from me,
A traveler came by,
Silently, invisibly
He took her with a sigh.

Loving in truth, and fain in verse my love to show,
That She, dear She, might take some pleasure of my pain,
—Pleasure might cause her read, reading might make her know,
Knowledge might pity win, and pity grace obtain—
I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe,
Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertain,
Oft turning others' leaves, to see if thence would flow
Some fresh and fruitful showers upon my sunburnt brain.
But words came halting forth, wanting Invention's stay;

'Hear'st thou that sound upon the window pane?'
Said the youth softly, as outstretched he lay
Where for an hour outstretched he had lain-
Softly, yet with some token of dismay.
Answered the maiden: 'It is but the rain
That has been gathering in the west all day!
Why shouldst thou hearken so? Thine eyelids close,
And let me gather peace from thy repose.'

'Hear'st thou that moan creeping along the ground?'
Said the youth, and his veiling eyelids rose
From deeps of lightning-haunted dark profound

Love, the baby,
Crept abroad to pluck a flower:
One said, Yes, sir; one said, Maybe;
One said, Wait the hour.

Love, the boy,
Joined the youngsters at their play:
But they gave him little joy,
And he went away.

Love, the youth,
Roamed the country, quiver-laden;
From him fled away in sooth
Many a man and maiden!

Love, the man,
Sought a service all about;
But they called him feeble, one
They could do without.

Love, the aged,
Walking, bowed, the shadeless miles,