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Love Poem by William Blake (1757-1827)

The Clod and the Pebble by William Blake

Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care;
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hells despair.

So sang a little Clod of Clay,
Trodden with the cattle's feet;
But a Pebble of the brook,
Warbled out these metres meet.

Love seeketh only Self to please,

To bind another to Its delight:
Joys in another's loss of ease,
And builds a Hell in Heavens despite.

Filed under: William Blake on April 6th, 2008 | No Comments »

Love Poem by William Blake (1757-1827)

Filed under: William Blake on April 6th, 2008 | No Comments »

Love Poem by William Blake (1757-1827)

The Garden of Love

I laid me down upon a bank,
Where Love lay sleeping;
I heard among the rushes dank
Weeping, weeping.

Then I went to the heath and the wild,
To the thistles and thorns of the waste;
And they told me how they were beguiled,
Driven out, and compelled to the chaste.

I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen;
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut
And "Thou shalt not," writ over the door;
So I turned to the Garden of Love
That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tombstones where flowers should be;
And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars my joys and desires.

Filed under: William Blake on April 6th, 2008 | No Comments »

Love Poem by William Blake (1757-1827)

Filed under: William Blake on April 6th, 2008 | No Comments »

Short Love poems by Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1883)

Break, Break, Break by Alfred Lord Tennyson

Break, Break, Break,
On thy cold grey stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.

O well for the fisherman's boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break,
At the foot of thy crags, O sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.

Filed under: Alfred Lord Tennyson on October 6th, 2007 | No Comments »

Love Poems by Eliza Acton (1799-1859)

I Love Thee by Eliza Acton,

I love thee, as I love the calm
Of sweet, star-lighted hours!
I love thee, as I love the balm
Of early jes'mine flow'rs.
I love thee, as I love the last
Rich smile of fading day,
Which lingereth, like the look we cast,
On rapture pass'd away.
I love thee as I love the tone
Of some soft-breathing flute
Whose soul is wak'd for me alone,
When all beside is mute.
I love thee as I love the first
Young violet of the spring;
Or the pale lily, April-nurs'd,
To scented blossoming.
I love thee, as I love the full,
Clear gushings of the song,
Which lonely-sad-and beautiful-
At night-fall floats along,
Pour'd by the bul-bul forth to greet
The hours of rest and dew;
When melody and moonlight meet
To blend their charm, and hue.
I love thee, as the glad bird loves
The freedom of its wing,
On which delightedly it moves
In wildest wandering.
I love thee as I love the swell,
And hush, of some low strain,
Which bringeth, by its gentle spell,
The past to life again.
Such is the feeling which from thee
Nought earthly can allure:
'Tis ever link'd to all I see
Of gifted-high-and pure!

Filed under: Eliza Acton on September 19th, 2007 | No Comments »

An Australian romantic love poem

This contemporary romantic love poem was written in true Aussie style. (Or so I am led to believe from the films on TV and a three week holiday in Victoria State in February 2005.

If you are from Australia we hope you take it in good fun and I seriously believe (or maybe just hope) that there must be at least one Aussie bloke who is willing to be more truly romantic when writing a love poem to his sweetheart / wife.

It was sent to us by a family member living in Australia. She was unable to track it back to its original source so we apologise if it is your own copyright. Please let us know and we will gladly give you full credit for the fun you gave to us and so many of our other readers. Thank you

An Aussie Romantic Love Poem (anon)

Of course I love ya Darling
your a bloody top notch bird
and when I say ur gorgeous
I mean every single word

So ya bum is on the big side
I don't mind a bit of flab
it means that when I'm ready
theres something there to grab

So your belly isn't flat no more
I tell ya, I don't care
So long as when I cuddle ya
I can get my arms around there

No Sheila who's your age
has nice round perky breasts
they just gave into gravity
but I know ya did ya best

I'm tellin ya the truth now
I never tell ya lies
I think its very sexy
That you have got dimples on ya thighs

I swear on me Nanna's grave now
the moment that we met
I thought u was as good as
I was ever going to get.

No matter wot U look like
I'll always love ya dear
Now shut up while the footys on
and get me another beer!

So far everyone who has commented on this "romantic" love poem has been full of praise for the sense of humor of the writer.

Now we have moved to this style of showing you our love poems you can comment even easier and let others know your views and your sense of humor at the same time. Just click on the comment button below.

Filed under: Anon on September 19th, 2007 | No Comments »

Love poems by Andrew Marvell (1621-1678)

The Definition of Love by Andrew Marvell

My love is of a birth as rare
As 'tis for object strange and high;
It was begotten by Despair
Upon Impossibility.

Magnanimous Despair alone
Could show me so divine a thing
Where feeble Hope could ne'er have flown,
But vainly flapp'd its tinsel wing.

And yet I quickly might arrive
Where my extended soul is fixt,
But Fate does iron wedges drive,
And always crowds itself betwixt.

For Fate with jealous eye does see
Two perfect loves, nor lets them close;
Their union would her ruin be,
And her tyrannic pow'r depose.

And therefore her decrees of steel
Us as the distant poles have plac'd,
(Though love's whole world on us doth wheel)
Not by themselves to be embrac'd;

Unless the giddy heaven fall,
And earth some new convulsion tear;
And, us to join, the world should all
Be cramp'd into a planisphere.

As lines, so loves oblique may well
Themselves in every angle greet;
But ours so truly parallel,
Though infinite, can never meet.

Therefore the love which us doth bind,
But Fate so enviously debars,
Is the conjunction of the mind,
And opposition of the stars.

Filed under: Andrew Marvell on September 18th, 2007 | No Comments »

Love Poems by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

A Man's Requirement

Love me Sweet, with all thou art,
Feeling, thinking, seeing;
Love me in the lightest part,
Love me in full being.

II

Love me with thine open youth
In its frank surrender;
With the vowing of thy mouth,
With its silence tender.

III

Love me with thine azure eyes,
Made for earnest grantings;
Taking colour from the skies,
Can Heaven's truth be wanting?

IV

Love me with their lids, that fall
Snow-like at first meeting;
Love me with thine heart, that all
Neighbours then see beating.

V

Love me with thine hand stretched out
Freely — open-minded:
Love me with thy loitering foot, —
Hearing one behind it.

VI

Love me with thy voice, that turns
Sudden faint above me;
Love me with thy blush that burns
When I murmur 'Love me!'

VII

Love me with thy thinking soul,
Break it to love-sighing;
Love me with thy thoughts that roll
On through living — dying.

VIII

Love me in thy gorgeous airs,
When the world has crowned thee;
Love me, kneeling at thy prayers,
With the angels round thee.

IX

Love me pure, as muses do,
Up the woodlands shady:
Love me gaily, fast and true,
As a winsome lady.

X

Through all hopes that keep us brave,
Farther off or nigher,
Love me for the house and grave,
And for something higher.

XI

Thus, if thou wilt prove me, Dear,
Woman's love no fable,
I will love thee — half a year —
As a man is able.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Robert Browning

Robert and Elizabeth Barrett Browning were a well known couple in Victorian literary circles. A strange match coming from very different backgrounds they eloped to get married after a lengthy exchange of letters to each other. Many of these letters still exist and we publish some of them on our LoveLettersCentral.com site. They later settled in Florence (where their son Robert Wiedemann Barrett was born).

Elizabeth Moulton Barrett (1806-61) was born in the north east of England (County Durham) the eldest of a family of 12. At the age of 32 the family moved from the open countryside to central London (50 Wimpole Street). Although an established and famous poet even before she came into first contact with Robert Browning she wrote her most famous love poems (Sonnets from the Portuguese) some four years after their marriage (see links above). Aurora Leigh (a love story written entirely in verse) written in 1857 was a huge success in many ways establishing Elizabeth Barrett Browning as one of the best writers of romantic love poems of the Victorian era. She was never a strong person and her health grew steadily worse before dying in June 1861. Elizabeth Barrett Browning was buried in Florence, Italy the place where the couple had made their home for many years.

Although Robert Browning (1812-89) is considered as one of our greatest Victorian romantic love poem writers in the view of many people he was never as good as his wife Elizabeth Barrett Browning. A Londoner by birth (his father worked as a clerk in the Bank of England). None of Robert Browning's early works achieved much success possibly because they were not easy to understand so never sold widely. After his marriage and a lack of success with several works he practically gave up writing to take care of his sickly wife.

After her death Robert Browning again turned back to writing poetry publishing Dramatis Personae (1864) was a huge success which he built on with his greatest work The Ring and the Book (1868). None of his later books sold as well so he continued to live largely in the shadow of his late wife, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, until his death in the cold winter of 1889. Although Robert Browning died in Venice his body was returned to London for burial in Poets Corner in Westminster Abbey.

Filed under: Elizabeth Barrett Browning on September 18th, 2007 | No Comments »

Love poems by Anne Bradstreet

A Letter to Her Husband Absent upon Public Employment

My head, my heart, mine eyes, my life, nay more,
My joy, my magazine, of earthly store,
If two be one, as surely thou and I,
How stayest thou there, whilst I at Ipswich lie?
So many steps, head from the heart to sever,
If but a neck, soon should we be together.
I, like the Earth this season, mourn in black,
My Sun is gone so far in's zodiac,
Whom whilst I 'joyed, nor storms, nor frost I felt,
His warmth such fridged colds did cause to melt.
My chilled limbs now numbed lie forlorn;
Return; return, sweet Sol, from Capricorn;
In this dead time, alas, what can I more
Than view those fruits which through thy heart I bore?
Which sweet contentment yield me for a space,
True living pictures of their father's face.
O strange effect! now thou art southward gone,
I weary grow the tedious day so long;
But when thou northward to me shalt return,
I wish my Sun may never set, but burn
Within the Cancer of my glowing breast,
The welcome house of him my dearest guest.
Where ever, ever stay, and go not thence,
Till nature's sad decree shall call thee hence;
Flesh of thy flesh, bone of thy bone,
I here, thou there, yet both but one.

Filed under: Anne Bradsteet on September 18th, 2007 | No Comments »