love poems

The first day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
A partridge in a pear tree.

The second day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Two turtle doves,
A partridge in a pear tree.

The third day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves, and
A partridge in a pear tree.

The fourth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Four colly birds,
Three French hens
Two turtle doves, and
A partridge in a pear tree.

I saw a Tiger's golden flank,
I saw what food he ate,
By a desert spring he drank;
The Tiger's name was Hate.

Then I saw a placid Lamb
Lying fast asleep;
Like a river from its dam
Flashed the Tiger's leap.

I saw a Lion tawny-red,
Terrible and brave;
The Tiger's leap overhead
Broke like a wave.

In sand below or sun above
He faded like a flame.
The Lamb said, " I am Love;
Lion, tell your name. "

The Lion's voice thundering
Shook his vaulted breast,

Watching love stories on TV,
watching a movie,
I wonder where we are.
I've wondered for a long time.
I've never seen any of us there,
straight on, like nouvelle vague lovers,
like psychedelic dancers.
I've never seen us, arms akimbo,
standing in the morning, waiting,
lying around in grassy meadows,
reeling in the pounding surf in a
burst of sunshine —
pale colors out of focus
or in focus, bright colors,
black and whites . . .

Where have we been all this time?

Fair ! that you may truly know
What you unto Thyrsis owe,
I will tell you how I do
Sacharissa love and you.
Joy salutes me, when I set
My blessed eyes on Amoret;
But with wonder I am strook,
When I on the other look.
If sweet Amoret complains
I have sense of all her pains;
But for Sacharissa I
Do not only grieve, but die.
All that of myself is mine,
Lovely Amoret! is thine;
Sacharissa's captive fain
Would untie his iron chain,
And, those scorching beams to shun,
To thy gentle shadow run.

Every night when the sun goes in,
Every True love, don't weep, true love, don't mourn,
True love, don't night when the sun goes in,
Every night when the sun goes weep, true love, don't mourn
True love, don't weep nor mourn for in,
I hang down my head and mournful cry. me,
I'm goin' away to Marbletown.

2

I wish to the Lord that train would come
I wish to the Lord that train would come
I wish to the Lord that train would come
To take me back where I come from.

3

Even from earthly love thy face avert not,Since to the Real it may serve to raise thee.Ere A, B, C, are rightly apprehended,How canst thou con the pages of thy Koran?A sage (so heard I), unto whom a studentCame craving counsel on the course before him,Said, " If thy steps be strangers to love's pathways,Depart, learn love, and then return before me!For, shouldst thou fear to drink wine from Form's flagon,Thou canst not drain the draught of the Ideal.But yet beware!

Disdain me still, that I may ever love,
For who his Love enjoys, can love no more;
The war once past, with peace men cowards prove,
And ships returned do rot upon the shore:
Then though thou frown, I'll say thou art most fair,
And still I'll love, though still I must despair.

As heat 's to life, so is desire to love,
For these once quenched, both life and love are done:
Let not my sighs, nor tears, thy virtue move;
Like basest metals, do not melt too soon.
Laugh at my woes, although I ever mourn,

Dear , when the sun is set
From my life's air,
And your eyes, newly wet
With tears for me,
Make my sky darker yet, —
Remember where
Your eyes in light laved all my destiny:
Weep not, weep not, since so much love was there!

Remember that through you
My rapture came:
I gained from faith so true
More than I asked, —
For not the half I knew
My need might name,
Until I saw the soul your love unmasked:
Then crave not of the night my vanished flame.

Come where my love lies dreaming,
Dreaming the happy hours away,
In visions bright redeeming
The fleeting joys of day;
Come where my love lies dreaming,
Dreaming the happy hours away,
In visions bright redeeming
The fleeting joys of day;
Dreaming the happy hours,
Dreaming the happy hours away;
Come where my love lies dreaming,
Dreaming,
Come where my love lies dreaming,
Dreaming the happy hours away;
My own love is sweetly dreaming the happy hours away.
Come where my love lies dreaming,

Come to me, Eros, if you needs must come
This year, with milder twinges;
Aim not your arrow at the bull's-eye plumb,
But let the outer pericardium
Be where the point impinges.

Garishly beautiful I watch them wane
Like sunsets in a pink west,
The passions of the past; but O their pain!
You recollect that nice affair with Jane?
We nearly had an inquest.

I want some mellower romance than these,
Something that shall not waken
The bosom of the bard from midnight ease,