109 Soulful Love Poems of All Time for Her

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Here are my favorite love poems of all time for her categorized:

  • Famous short love poems for her
  • Romantic love poems for her
  • Classic love poems for her
  • Poems about falling in love for her

So if you want the best love poems of all time for her, then you’re in the right place.

Let’s jump right in!

109 Best Love Poems of All Time for Her (+ My #1 Fav)
Contents: hide
5 Famous Short Love Poems for Her

Soulful Love Poems of All Time for Her

a beauty and delicate cherry blossoms gently kissed by spring's breeze

Love, a timeless muse that has inspired poets throughout the ages, invites us to take delight in its tender embrace.

This collection of soulful love poems are all time favorites across all ages, penned by classic poets with ink dipped in affection, weave tales of passion, longing, and devotion.

As we read through the lines of these poems, let us traverse the delicate landscapes of romance, where verses dance like butterflies on the page, whispering secrets of love to those who dare to listen.

So, let us immerse ourselves in the melodic symphony of love poems, where emotions intertwine and the beauty of language paints a vivid portrait of adoration.

Let’s get straight to it!

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My #1 Favorite Love Poem of All Time for Her

a woman in a white dress dress in the blooming spring forest

“If I Were” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

If I were a raindrop, and you were a leaf,
I would burst from the cloud above you,
And lie on your breast in a rapture of rest,
And love you, love you, love you.

If I were a brown bee, and you were a rose,
I would fly to you, love, nor miss you;
I would sip and sip from your nectared lip,
And kiss you, kiss you, kiss you.

If I were a doe, dear, and you were a brook,
Ah, what would I do then, think you?
I would kneel by the bank, in the grasses dank,
And drink you, drink you, drink you.

Why Is “If I Were” My Favorite Love Poem of All Time for Her

a beautiful girl with wildflowers in the midsummer sun

In “If I Were,” I am amazed at how skillfully Wilcox has crafted imagery that creates vivid pictures in the reader’s mind and adds depth to the conveyed emotions.

It is truly beautiful how the poet has used metaphors to depict the innermost desires of a woman who is passionately in love.

When I read this poem, I am reminded of the importance of embracing our true selves and pursuing our passions fearlessly.

That is why “If I Were” is so relatable and can truly resonate with women of all ages and backgrounds, like myself.

Famous Short Love Poems for Her

a charming lady in nature

Get ready to be mesmerized by these famous short verses from the world’s most renowned poets!

Uncover a hidden treasure of heartfelt sentiments that will take your breath away, engulfing you in a romantic journey filled with emotion and grandeur.

“A Ditty” by Sir Philip Sidney

My true love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange, one to the other given:
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,
There never was a better bargain driven:
My true love hath my heart, and I have his.
His heart in me keeps him and me in one,
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides:
He loves my heart, for once it was his own,
I cherish his because in me it bides:
My true love hath my heart, and I have his.

“Heart, We Will Forget Him!” by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Heart, we will forget him!
You and I, to-night!
You may forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.

When you have done, pray tell me,
That I my thoughts may dim;
Haste! lest while you’re lagging,
I may remember him!

“Love’s Omnipresence” by Joshua Sylvester

Were I as base as is the lowly plain,
And you, my Love, as high as heaven above,
Yet should the thoughts of me, your humble swain,
Ascend to heaven, in honor of my Love.
Were I as high as heaven above the plain,
And you, my Love, as humble and as low
As are the deepest bottoms of the main,
Wheresoe’er you were, with you my love should go.
Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies,
My love should shine on you like to the sun,
And look upon you with ten thousand eyes
Till heaven waxed blind, and till the world were done.
Wheresoe’er I am, below, or else above you,
Wheresoe’er you are, my heart shall truly love you.

a blonde-haired woman in the garden surrounded by flowers

“Take, Oh, Take Those Lips Away” by William Shakespeare

Take, oh, take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn!
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn;
But my kisses bring again,
Seals of love, but sealed in vain.
Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow,
Which thy frozen bosom bears!
On whose tops the pinks that grow
Are of those that April wears;
But first set my poor heart free,
Bound in those icy chains by thee.

“Bequest” by Emily Dickinson

You left me, sweet, two legacies, —
A legacy of love
A Heavenly Father would content,
Had He the offer of;

You left me boundaries of pain
Capacious as the sea,
Between eternity and time,
Your consciousness and me.

“Verses Written In An Album” by Thomas Moore

Here is one leaf reserved for me,
From all thy sweet memorials free;
And here my simple song might tell
The feelings thou must guess so well.
But could I thus, within thy mind,
One little vacant corner find,
Where no impression yet is seen,
Where no memorial yet has been,
O, it should be my sweetest care
To write my name forever there!

a sleeping beauty in a white dress lies on the bed with red roses

“Proof” by Emily Dickinson

That I did always love,
I bring thee proof:
That till I loved
I did not love enough.

That I shall love alway,
I offer thee
That love is life,
And life hath immortality.

This, dost thou doubt, sweet?
Then have I
Nothing to show
But Calvary.

“Love Me Not For Comely Grace” by Anonymous

Love not me for comely grace,
For my pleasing eye or face,
Nor for any outward part,
No, nor for my constant heart;
For those may fail or turn to ill,
So thou and I shall sever;
Keep therefore a true woman’s eye,
And love me still, but know not why.
So hast thou the same reason still
To dote upon me ever.

“Light” by Francis W. Bourdillon

The night has a thousand eyes,
The day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When its love is done.

a happy couple stands while embracing and kissing each other on beautiful sunset in mountain

“Love Song” by Rainer Maria Rilke (Jessie Lemont, Translator)

When my soul touches yours a great chord sings!
How shall I tune it then to other things?
O! That some spot in darkness could be found
That does not vibrate whene’er your depths sound.
But everything that touches you and me
Welds us as played strings sound one melody.
Where is the instrument whence the sounds flow?
And whose the master-hand that holds the bow?
O! Sweet song—

“Not At All, Or All In All” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson

In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours,
Faith and unfaith can ne’er be equal powers;
Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all.

It is the little rift within the lute,
That by and by will make the music mute,
And ever widening slowly silence all.

The little rift within the lover’s lute
Or little pitted speck in garnered fruit,
That rotting inward, slowly molders all.

It is not worth the keeping: let it go:
But shall it? answer, darling, answer, no.
And trust me not at all or all in all.

“Meeting At Night” by Robert Browning

The gray sea, and the long black land;
And the yellow half- moon large and low;
And the startling little waves, that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed in the slushy sand.

Then a mile of warm, sea- scented beach;
Three fields to cross, till a farm appears:
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts, beating each to each.

a princess dressed in pink sits on a bed in the water

“The Outlet” by Emily Dickinson

My river runs to thee:
Blue sea, wilt welcome me?
My river waits reply.
Oh sea, look graciously!
I’ll fetch thee brooks
From spotted nooks, —
Say, sea,
Take me!

“Sonnets from the Portuguese: XIV” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love’s sake only. Do not say
“I love her for her smile—her look—her way
Of speaking gently,—for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day”—
For these things in themselves, Belovëd, may
Be changed, or change for thee,—and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so. Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity’s wiping my cheeks dry,—
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!
But love me for love’s sake, that evermore
Thou may’st love on, through love’s eternity.

“At Night” by Sara Teasdale

Love said, “Wake still and think of me,”
Sleep, “Close your eyes till break of day,”
But Dreams came by and smilingly
Gave both to Love and Sleep their way.

A long haired lady in a wreath walks across the meadow towards the sun

“Love And Friendship” by Emily Brontë

Love is like the wild rose-briar,
Friendship like the holly-tree,
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most constantly?
The wild-rose briar is sweet in the spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again
And who wil call the wild-briar fair?
Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now
And deck thee with the holly’s sheen,
That when December blights thy brow
He may still leave thy garland green.

“Wild Nights! Wild Nights!” by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

Wild nights! Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile the winds
To a heart in port, —
Done with the compass,
Done with the chart.

Rowing in Eden!
Ah! the sea!
Might I but moor
To-night in thee!

“How Do I Love Thee” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

a young vintage lady in black dress in the garden

“Love Is Strong As Death” by Christina G. Rossetti

“I have not sought Thee, I have not found Thee,
I have not thirsted for Thee:
And now cold billows of death surround me,
Buffeting billows of death astound me,–
Wilt Thou look upon, wilt Thou see
Thy perishing me?”

“Yea, I have sought thee, yea, I have found thee,
Yea, I have thirsted for thee,
Yea, long ago with love’s bands I bound thee:
Now the Everlasting Arms surround thee,–
Through death’s darkness I look and see
And clasp thee to Me.”

“Love Me” by Sara Teasdale

Brown-thrush singing all day long
In the leaves above me,
Take my love this April song,
“Love me, love me, love me!”

When he harkens what you say,
Bid him, lest he miss me,
Leave his work or leave his play,
And kiss me, kiss me, kiss me!

“A Love Song” by Theodosia Pickering Garrison

My love it should be silent, being deep—
And being very peaceful should be still—
Still as the utmost depths of ocean keep—
Serenely silent as some mighty hill.

Yet is my love so great it needs must fill
With very joy the inmost heart of me,
The joy of dancing branches on the hill
The joy of leaping waves upon the sea.

a young beautiful woman in tender transparent dress laying on bed among purple flowers

“You” by Ruth Guthrie Harding

Deep in the heart of me,
Nothing but You!
See through the art of me —
Deep in the heart of me
Find the best part of me,
Changeless and true.
Deep in the heart of me,
Nothing but You!

“Envoi” by Josephine Preston Peabody

Belovèd, till the day break,
Leave wide the little door;
And bless, to lack and longing,
Our brimming more-and-more.

Is love a scanted portion,
That we should hoard thereof?—
Oh, call unto the deserts,
Belovèd and my Love!

“Dusk at Sea” by Thomas S. Jones, Jr.

To-night eternity alone is near:
The sea, the sunset, and the darkening blue;
Within their shelter is no space for fear,
Only the wonder that such things are true.

The thought of you is like the dusk at sea—
Space and wide freedom and old shores left far,
The shelter of a lone immensity
Sealed by the sunset and the evening star.

sad girl in the boat on a gloomy day at the lake

“If You Should Tire Loving Me” by Margaret Widdemer

If you should tire of loving me
Some one of our far days,
Oh, never start to hide your heart
Or cover thought with praise.

For every word you would not say
Be sure my heart has heard,
So go from me all silently
Without a kiss or word;

For God must give you happiness,
And Oh, it may befall
In listening long to Heaven-song
I may not care at all!

“Daybreak” by John Donne

Stay, O sweet and do not rise!
The light that shines comes from thine eyes;
The day breaks not: it is my heart,
Because that you and I must part.
Stay! or else my joys will die
And perish in their infancy.

“I Am Thine” by Anonymous

I am thine, thou art mine,
And this shall be a sure sign:
Locked fast thou art
Within my heart,
And lost forever is the key;
So thou inside must ever be.

a fairy in a beautiful white dress relaxing in the woods

“Love Me At Last” by Alice Corbin

Love me at last, or if you will not,
Leave me;
Hard words could never, as these half-words,
Grieve me:
Love me at last—or leave me.
Love me at last, or let the last word uttered
Be but your own;
Love me, or leave me—as a cloud, a vapor,
Or a bird flown.
Love me at last—I am but sliding water
Over a stone.

“Waiting” by Dorothy Dow

If you should walk in the park and not find me,
Or go in the market-place and not see me,
Would you not search further?
Does not your heart tell you I am somewhere?
Go out on the long roads—I may be at the end of one.

The sea to the ship,
The river to the little boat,
The cloud to the swallow—
One for the other, always.
And I, for you, forever.

“Apple Blossoms” by Helen Hoyt

I have found my beloved in the time of apple
O pink blossoms, white blossoms, fragrance of
I have found my beloved in the time of apple blossoms—
O beauty and fragrance!
Soon will the apples push out their green
Soon will they round into happy red—
The boughs of the trees will bend and be
weighed down
With that ripe burden, with that rich burden of fruit.

a beautiful red-haired girl in vintage dress indoors

“Let Me Keep Your Hand” by Helen Hoyt

Let me keep your hand,
A part of you to stay
With me while we sleep.
You go so far away,
I lie so awake—
Let me keep your hand
For comfort’s sake,
To lay against my face;
My cheek is a lonely place.
Let me keep your hand.

“Anticipation” by Helen Hoyt

Another night to wait
Another day, and then, Beside me close,
You—you! returned again!
And I shall touch your face
And touch your hair, And reach my hands
And know that you are there!

Romantic Love Poems for Her

a pretty lady with purple flower head wreath is relaxing in the field

What better way to express the mystery of love than through romantic poems?

Whether you’re looking to capture the beauty of your partner or convey the depths of your emotions, these love poems for her are sure to ignite the flame of affection and touch her heart.

“We Never Left Our Love Unsaid” by Helen Hoyt

We never left our love unsaid,
But always made it plain with speech.
With words we cried it each to each;
Where only silences can reach
We thought by words to touch and tread;
With words our love was overspread,
With words , with words our hearts were wed!

We never left our love unsaid,
We never let it take its way
Unwatched and hid; too little dread
We had of love, of love’s strange sway.
With words we watched our love decay,
With words we mourned it, with words we pled.
And followed after where it fled
And would not leave its death unsaid.

“Blest As The Immortal Gods” by Sappho (Ambrose Phillips, Translator)

Blest as the immortal gods is he,
The youth who fondly sits by thee,
And hears and sees thee all the while
Softly speak, and sweetly smile.

‘T was this deprived my soul of rest,
And raised such tumults in my breast:
For while I gazed, in transport tost,
My breath was gone, my voice was lost.

My bosom glowed; the subtle flame
Ran quick through all my vital frame;
O’er my dim eyes a darkness hung;
My ears with hollow murmurs rung;

In dewy damps my limbs were chilled;
My blood with gentle horrors thrilled:
My feeble pulse forgot to play
I fainted, sunk, and died away.

“Love’s Philosophy” by Percy Bysshe Shelley

The fountains mingle with the river,
And the rivers with the ocean;
The winds of heaven mix forever,
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one another’s being mingle:—
Why not I with thine?

See! the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:—
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?

a sensual young brunette woman in the garden

“Withheld” by Helen Hoyt

Ah, more than my mouth thirsts for your drink!
Up creeps desire, warm through my blood,
Surging into my heart, whence it must sink
And ebb away, until the newer flood
Breaks over me, straining in my distress.
And still we keep us tarrying at the kiss!
My readiness complete do you not guess,
I cannot tell it, cannot ask my bliss—
I cannot ask. With all my will I plead
My lips to speak , and still they hold me
Dumb , waiting you , who only wait my need!
O wait no longer, love; O love, come! come.

“When Do I See Thee Most?” by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

When do I see thee most, beloved one?
When in the light the spirits of mine eyes
Before thy face, their altar, solemnize
The worship of that Love through thee made known?
Or when, in the dusk hours (we two alone),
Close-kissed, and eloquent of still replies
Thy twilight-hidden glimmering visage lies,
And my soul only sees thy soul its own?
O love, my love! if I no more should see
Thyself, nor on the earth the shadow of thee,
Nor image of thine eyes in any spring,—
How then should sound upon Life’s darkenin slope
The ground-whirl of the perished leaves of Hope,
The wind of Death’s imperishable wing!

“Full Many A Glorious Morning” by William Shakespeare

Full many a glorious morning have I seen
Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,
Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;
Anon permit the basest clouds to ride,
With ugly rack on his celestial face,
And from the forlorn world his visage hide,
Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace:
Even so my sun one early morn did shine
With all-triumphant splendor on my brow;
But out, alack! he was but one hour mine,
The region cloud hath masked him from me now.
Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;
Suns of the world may stain when heaven’s sun staineth.

a beautiful romantic lady in apple trees blossoms

“So Sweet Love Seemed” by Robert Seymore Bridges

So sweet love seemed that April morn,
When first we kissed beside the thorn,
So strangely sweet, it was not strange
We thought that love could never change.

But I can tell—let truth be told
That love will change in growing old;
Though day by day is naught to see,
So delicate his motions be.

And in the end ‘t will come to pass
Quite to forget what once he was,
Nor even in fancy to recall
The pleasure that was all in all.

His little spring, that sweet we found,
So deep in summer floods is drowned,
I wonder, bathed in joy complete,
How love so young could be so sweet.

“Song” by Christina G. Rossetti

Two doves upon the selfsame branch,
Two lilies on a single stem,
Two butterflies upon one flower:—
O happy they who look on them.

Who look upon them hand in hand
Flushed in the rosy summer light;
Who look upon them hand in hand
And never give a thought to night.

“Were I As Base As Is The Lowly Plain” by Joshua Sylvester

Were I as base as is the lowly plain,
And you, my Love, as high as heaven above,
Yet should the thoughts of me your humble swain
Ascend to heaven, in honor of my Love.
Were I as high as heaven above the plain,
And you, my Love, as humble and as low
As are the deepest bottoms of the main,
Wheresoe’er you were, with you my love should go.
Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies,
My love should shine on you like to the sun,
And look upon you with ten thousand eyes
Till heaven waxed blind, and till the world were done.
Wheresoe’er I am, below, or else above you,
Wheresoe’er you are, my heart shall truly love you.

a pretty girl in a purple dress relaxing in a luxurious sofa

“Last Night” from the Swedish (Theophile Marzials, Translator)

Last night the nightingale waked me,
Last night when all was still;
It sang in the golden moonlight
From out the woodland hill.
I opened the window gently,
And all was dreamy dew—
And oh the bird, my darling,
Was singing, singing of you!

I think of you in the day-time;
I dream of you by night—
I wake-would you were near me,
And hot tears blind my sight.
I hear a sigh in the lime-tree,
The wind is floating through,
And oh the night, my darling,
Is longing, longing for you.

Nor think I can forget you!
I could not though I would!
I see you in all around me,—
The stream, the night, the wood;
The flowers that sleep so gently,
The stars above the blue,
Oh! heaven itself, my darling,
Is praying, praying for you.

“Echo” by Christina G. Rossetti

Come to me in the silence of the night;
Come in the speaking silence of a dream;
Come with soft rounded cheeks and eyes as bright
As sunlight on a stream;
Come back in tears,
O memory, hope, love of finished years.

O dream how sweet, too sweet, too bitter sweet,
Whose wakening should have been in Paradise,
Where souls brimful of love abide and meet;
Where thirsting longing eyes
Watch the slow door
That opening, letting in, lets out no more.

Yet come to me in dreams, that I may live
My very life again though cold in death:
Come back to me in dreams, that I may give
Pulse for pulse, breath for breath:
Speak low, lean low,
As long ago, my love, how long ago!

“Sonnets from the Portuguese: XLIII” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,—I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!—and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

a beautiful red-haired girl in vintage pink dress

“The Letter” by Helen Hoyt

The words were beautiful
Before I had read them.
So that my sight went leaping and skipping.
I kissed my name where your hand had written ,
I laid my fingers along the edges,
Over the folds your hands had folded,—
I laid my face to the face of my letter . .

Softly came down and closed in about me
A solitude , a separate world;
In which was no sound or motion or being;
Only the whispering of the paper
Stirring to life in my brain.

All day I carried it,
Against me,
Like a bird;
Against my heart where my life is;
Like a secret waiting in my heart . .

“How Does Love Speak?” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

How does Love speak?
In the faint flush upon the tell-tale cheek,
And in the pallor that succeeds it; by
The quivering lid of an averted eye –
The smile that proves the parent of a sigh:
Thus doth Love speak.

How does Love speak?
By the uneven heart-throbs, and the freak
Of bounding pulses that stand still and ache
While new emotions, like strange barges, make
Along vein-channels their disturbing course,
Still as the dawn, and with the dawn’s swift force:
Thus doth Love speak.

How does Love speak?
In the avoidance of that which we seek
The sudden silence and reserve when near;
The eye that glistens with an unshed tear;
The joy that seems the counterpart of fear,
As the alarmed heart leads in the breast,
And knows, and names, and greets its godlike guest:
Thus doth Love speak.

How does Love speak?
In the proud spirit suddenly grown meek,
The haughty heart grown humble; in the tender
And unnamed light that floods the world with splendour;
In the resemblance which the fond eyes trace
In all fair things to one beloved face;
In the shy touch of hands that thrill and tremble;
In looks and lips that can no more dissemble:
Thus doth Love speak.

How does Love speak?
In wild words that uttered seem so weak
They shrink ashamed to silence; in the fire
Glance strikes with glance, swift flashing high and higher,
Like lightnings that precede the mighty storm
In the deep, soulful stillness; in the warm,
Impassioned tide that sweeps thro’ throbbing veins,
Between the shores of keen delights and pains;
In the embrace where madness melts in bliss,
And in the convulsive rapture of a kiss:
Thus doth Love speak.

“In the Garden of Our Love” by Emile Verhaeren (F. S. Flint, Translator)

In the garden of our love, summer still goes on: yonder, a golden peacock crosses an avenue; petals—pearls, emeralds, turquoises —deck the uniform slumber of the green swards.

Our blue ponds shimmer, covered with the white kiss of the snowy water-lilies; in the quincunxes, our currant bushes follow one another in procession; an iridescent insect teases the heart of a flower; the marvellous undergrowths are veined with gleams; and, like light bubbles, a thousand bees quiver along the arbours over the silver grapes.

The air is so lovely that it seems rainbow-hued; beneath the deep and radiant noons, it stirs as if it were roses of light; while, in the distance, the customary roads, like slow movements stretching their vermilion to the pearly horizon, climb towards the sun.

Indeed, the diamonded gown of this fine summer clothes no other garden with so pure a brightness. And the unique joy sprung up in our two hearts discovers its own life in these clusters of flames.

A beautiful girl in a long yellow dress against the background of a blooming purple field and a bright sunset sky

“Moonlight Night” by Rainer Maria Rilke (Jessie Lemont, Translator)

South-German night! the ripe moon hangs above
Weaving enchantment o’er the shadowy lea.
From the old tower the hours fall heavily
Into the dark as though into the sea—
A rustle, a call of night-watch in the grove,
Then for a while void silence fills the air;
And then a violin (from God knows where)
Awakes and slowly sings: Oh Love … Oh Love …

“If You Were Coming In The Fall” by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

If you were coming in the fall,
I’d brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a fly.

If I could see you in a year,
I’d wind the months in balls,
And put them each in separate drawers,
Until their time befalls.

If only centuries delayed,
I’d count them on my hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemen’s land.

If certain, when this life was out,
That yours and mine should be,
I’d toss it yonder like a rind,
And taste eternity.

But now, all ignorant of the length
Of time’s uncertain wing,
It goads me, like the goblin bee,
That will not state its sting.

“A Birthday” by Christina G. Rossetti

My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a watered shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love is come to me.

Raise me a dais of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.

a beautiful girl in a light summer blue long dress adorned in her hair against a blossoming tree

“Romance” by Scudder Middleton

Why should we argue with the falling dust
Or tremble in the traffic of the days?
Our hearts are music-makers in the clouds,
Our feet are running on the heavenly ways.

We’ll go and find the honey of romance
Within the hollow of the sacred tree.
There is a spirit in the eastern sky,
Calling along the dawn to you and me.

She’ll lead us to the forest where she hides
The yellow wine that keeps the angels young—
We are the chosen lovers of the earth
For whom alone the golden comb was hung.

“At the Mid Hour of Night” by Thomas Moore

At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly
To the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye;
And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air
To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there,
And tell me our love is remember’d even in the sky.

Then I sing the wild song it once was rapture to hear,
When our voices commingling breathed like one on the ear;
And as Echo far off through the vale my sad orison rolls,
I think, O my love! ’tis thy voice from the Kingdom of Souls
Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear.

“Somewhere in France” by Isabel Howe Fiske

Somewhere in France my heart is kept
In a soldier’s heart, out there.
Last night I know not where it slept,
My heart, in his heart’s care.
I know not if he slept at all,
My man across the sea.
I do not know if he will fall
Or come back safe to me.
He has my heart. That is my share,
My bit, that I have sent out there.

a lonely girl in a vintage dress walks in a dark forest

“Absence” by Helen Hoyt

It is not alone my desire of you
That aches now, unsatisfied;
But most of all I am missing
Your desire of me.
How can I feel your desire
When you are so far!
I want the joy of your enjoying me;
It is that I am wanting
Your delight in my delight,
Your longing crying to mine
How can I hear your longing
When you are so far?

Classic Love Poems for Her

 a beautiful young woman in summer garden

Love remains unchanged throughout time, both in the present and the past!

With these beautifully crafted classic love poems, you will find words that express your longing and affection and celebrate the power of love in its purest form.

“Ah! How Sweet!” by John Dryden

Ah! how sweet it is to love!
Ah! how gay is young desire;
And what pleasing pains we prove,
When we first approach love’s fire:
Pains of love are sweeter far
Than all other pleasures are.

Sighs which are from lovers blown
Do but gently heave the heart:
E’en the tears they shed alone,
Cure, like trickling balm, their smart.
Lovers, when they lose their breath,
Bleed away in easy death.

Love and Time with reverence use,
Treat them like a parting friend;
Nor the golden gifts refuse
Which in youth sincere they send:
For each year their price is more,
And they less simple than before.

Love, like spring-tides full and high,
Swells in every youthful vein;
But each tide does less supply,
Till they quite shrink in again.
If a flow in age appear,
‘Tis but rain, and runs not clear.

“Indifference” by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I said,—for Love was laggard, O, Love was slow to come,—
“I’ll hear his step and know his step when I am warm in bed;
But I’ll never leave my pillow, though there be some
As would let him in–and take him in with tears!” I said.
I lay,—for Love was laggard, O, he came not until dawn,—
I lay and listened for his step and could not get to sleep;
And he found me at my window with my big cloak on,
All sorry with the tears some folks might weep!

“Cupid’s Curse” by George Peele

My love is fair, my love is gay,
As fresh as are the flowers in May;
And of my love the roundelay,
My merry, merry roundelay,
Concludes with Cupid’s curse:
They that do change old love for new,
Pray gods they change for worse!

My love can pipe, my love can sing,
My love can many a pretty thing,
And of his lovely praises ring
My merry , merry roundelays.
Amen to Cupid’s curse!
They that do change old love for new,
Pray gods they change for worse!

a medieval princess holding fan in hands enjoying in the sunny summer nature garden with red roses

“When Will Love Come?” by Pakenham Beatty

Some find Love late, some find him soon,
Some with the rose in May,
Some with the nightingale in June,
And some when skies are gray;
Love comes to some with smiling eyes,
And comes with tears to some;
For some Love sings, for some Love sighs ,
For some Love’s lips are dumb.
How will you come to me, fair Love?
Will you come late or soon?
With sad or smiling skies above,
By light of sun or moon?
Will you be sad, will you be sweet,
Sing, sigh, Love, or be dumb?
Will it be summer when we meet,
Or autumn ere you come?

“Why?” by Mary Louise Ritter

Why came the rose? Because the sun, in shining,
Found in the mold some atoms rare and fine:
And, stooping, drew and warmed them into growing, –
Dust, with the spirit’s mystic countersign.

What made the perfume? All his wondrous kisses
Fell on the sweet red mouth, till, lost to sight,
The love became too exquisite, and vanished
Into a viewless rapture of the night.

Why did the rose die? Ah, why ask the question?
There is a time to love, a time to give;
She perished gladly, folding close the secret
Wherein is garnered what it is to live.

“Three Loves” by Lucy H. Hooper

There were three maidens who loved a king ;
They sat together beside the sea;
One cried, “I love him, and I would die
If but for one day he might love me!”

The second whispered,” And I would die
To gladden his life, or make him great.”
The third one spoke not, but gazed afar
With dreamy eyes that were sad as Fate.

The king he loved the first for a day,
The second his life with fond love blest;
And yet the woman who never spoke
Was the one of the three who loved him best.

a medieval lady in luxury dress in the palace

“Give Me More Love Or More Disdain” by Thomas Carew

Give me more love or more disdain;
The torrid or the frozen zone
Brings equal ease unto my pain;
The temperate affords me none;
Either extreme, of love or hate,
Is sweeter than a calm estate.

Give me a storm; If it be love,
Like Danaë in a golden shower,
I swim in pleasure; if it prove
Disdain, that torrent will devour
My vulture hopes; and he’s possessed
Of heaven that’s but from hell released;
Then crown my joys, or cure my pain;
Give me more love or more disdain.

“Seven Times Three” by Jean Ingelow

I leaned Out of window, I smelt the white clover,
Dark, dark was the garden, I saw not the gate;
“Now, if there be footsteps, he comes, my one
Hush, nightingale, hush! O sweet nightingale,
Till I listen and hear
If a step draweth near,
For my love he is late!

“The skies in the darkness stoop nearer and
A cluster of stars hangs like fruit in the tree,
The fall of the water comes sweeter, comes clearer:
To what art thou listening, and what dost thou
Let the star-clusters glow,
Let the sweet waters flow
And cross quickly to me.

” You night-moths that hover where honey brims
From sycamore blossoms, or settle or sleep;
You glow-worms, shine out, and the pathway dis
To him that comes darkling along the rough
Ah, my sailor, make haste,
For the time runs to waste,
And my love lieth deep, —

“Too deep for swift telling; and yet, my one lover,
I’ve conned thee an answer, it waits thee tonight.”
By the sycamore passed he, and through the white
Then all the sweet speech I had fashioned took
But I’ll love him more, more
Than e’er wife loved before,
Be the days dark or bright.

“The Return” by Sara Teasdale

He has come, he is here,
My love has come home,
The minutes are lighter
Than flying foam,

The hours are like dancers
On gold-slippered feet,
The days are young runners
Naked and fleet.

For my love has returned,
He is home, he is here,
In the whole world no other
Is dear as my dear!

woman in white dress at sunset

“Renouncement” by Alice Meynell

I must not think of thee; and, tired yet strong,
I shun the thought that lurks in all delight
The thought of thee-and in the blue Heaven’s height,
And in the sweetest passage of a song.
Oh, just beyond the fairest thoughts that throng
This breast, the thought of thee waits, hidden yet bright;
But it must never, never come in sight;
I must stop short of thee the whole day long.
But when sleep comes to close each difficult day,
When night gives pause to the long watch I keep,
And all my bonds I needs must loose apart,
Must doff my will as raiment laid away,—
With the first dream that comes with the first sleep
I run, I run, I am gathered to thy heart.

“Sonnets from the Portuguese: XXI” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Say over again, and yet once over again,
That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated
Should seem a “cuckoo-song,” as thou dost treat it,
Remember, never to the hill or plain,
Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strain
Comes the fresh Spring in all her green completed.
Belovëd, I, amid the darkness greeted
By a doubtful spirit-voice, in that doubt’s pain
Cry, “Speak once more—thou lovest!” Who can fear
Too many stars, though each in heaven shall roll,
Too many flowers, though each shall crown the year?
Say thou dost love me, love me, love me—toll
The silver iterance!—only minding, Dear,
To love me also in silence with thy soul.

“All That Love Asks” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

“All that I ask, says Love, “is just to stand
And gaze, unchided, deep in thy dear eyes;
For in their depths lies largest Paradise.
Yet, if perchance one pressure of thy hand
Be granted me, then joy I thought complete
Were still more sweet.”

“All that I ask, says Love, “all that I ask,
Is just thy hand clasp. Could I brush thy cheek
As zephyrs brush a rose leaf, words are weak
To tell the bliss in which my soul would bask.
There is no language but would desecrate
A joy so great.”

“All that I ask, is just one tender touch
Of that soft cheek. Thy pulsing palm in mine,
Thy dark eyes lifted in a trust divine
And those curled lips that tempt me overmuch
Turned where I may not seize the supreme bliss
Of one mad kiss.

“All that I ask, says Love, “of life, of death,
Or of high heaven itself, is just to stand,
Glance melting into glance, hand twined in hand,
The while I drink the nectar of thy breath,
In one sweet kiss, but one, of all thy store,
I ask no more.”

“All that I ask”-nay, self-deceiving Love,
Reverse thy phrase, so thus the words may fall,
In place of “all I ask,” say, “I ask all,”
All that pertains to earth or soars above,
All that thou wert, art, will be, body, soul,
Love asks the whole.

a young woman enjoy flowers in garden on a spring day

“Bleak Weather” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Dear Love, where the red lilies blossomed and grew
The white snows are falling;
And all through the woods where I wandered with you
The loud winds are calling;
And the robin that piped to us tune upon tune,
Neath the oak, you remember,
O’er hill-top and forest has followed the June
And left us December.

He has left like a friend who is true in the sun
And false in the shadows;
He has found new delights in the land where he’s gone,
Greener woodlands and meadows.
Let him go! what care we? let the snow shroud the lea,
Let it drift on the heather;
We can sing through it all: I have you, you have me.
And we’ll laugh at the weather.

The old year may die and a new year be born
That is bleaker and colder:
It cannot dismay us; we dare it, we scorn,
For our love makes us bolder.
Ah, Robin! sing loud on your far distant lea,
You friend in fair weather!
But here is a song sung that’s fuller of glee,
By two warm hearts together.

“The Rose And The Bee” by Sara Teasdale

If I were a bee and you were a rose,
Would you let me in when the gray wind blows?
Would you hold your petals wide apart,
Would you let me in to find your heart,
If you were a rose?

“If I were a rose and you were a bee,
You should never go when you came to me,
I should hold my love on my heart at last,
I should close my leaves and keep you fast,
If you were a bee.”

“Tides” by Sara Teasdale

Love in my heart was a fresh tide flowing
Where the star-like sea gulls soar;
The sun was keen and the foam was blowing
High on the rocky shore.

But now in the dusk the tide is turning,
Lower the sea gulls soar,
And the waves that rose in resistless yearning
Are broken forevermore.

a stunning lady in an amazing secret garden

“Sonnet II” by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I think I should have loved you presently,
And given in earnest words I flung in jest;
And lifted honest eyes for you to see,
And caught your hand against my cheek and breast;
And all my pretty follies flung aside
That won you to me, and beneath your gaze,
Naked of reticence and shorn of pride,
Spread like a chart my little wicked ways.
I, that had been to you, had you remained,
But one more waking from a recurrent dream,
Cherish no less the certain stakes I gained,
And walk your memory’s halls, austere, supreme,
A ghost in marble of a girl you knew
Who would have loved you in a day or two.

“On Entering The Sea” by Nizar Qabbani

Love happened at last,
And we entered God’s paradise,
Under the skin of the water
Like fish.
We saw the precious pearls of the sea
And were amazed.
Love happened at last
Without intimidation… with symmetry of wish.
So I gave… and you gave
And we were fair.
It happened with marvelous ease
Like writing with jasmine water,
Like a spring flowing from the ground.

“Remember” by Christina G. Rossetti

Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more, day by day,
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.

a young beautiful blonde haired lady with a wreath of daisies on her head is standing in the forest in a white long summer dress barefoot and an old kerosene lamp in her hands

“Song: Love in fantastic triumph sat” by Aphra Behn

Love in fantastic triumph sat
Whilst bleeding hearts around him flow’d,
For whom fresh paines he did create,
And strange tyrannic power he show’d;
From thy bright eyes he took his fire,
Which round about in sport he hurl’d;
But ’twas from mine he took desire,
Enough to undo the amorous world.
From me he took his sighs and tears,
From thee his pride and cruelty;
From me his languishments and fears,
And every killing dart from thee.
Thus thou and I the god have arm’d,
And set him up a deity;
But my poor heart alone is harm’d,
Whilst thine the victor is, and free.

“To one that asked me why I loved J. G.” by Ephelia

Why do I love? go ask the glorious sun
Why every day it round the world doth run:
Ask Thames and Tiber why they ebb and flow:
Ask damask roses why in June they blow:
Ask ice and hail the reason why they’re cold:
Decaying beauties, why they will grow old:
They’ll tell thee, Fate, that everything doth move,
Inforces them to this, and me to love.
There is no reason for our love or hate,
’Tis irresistible as Death or Fate;
’Tis not his face; I’ve sense enough to see,
That is not good, though doated on by me:
Nor is’t his tongue, that has this conquest won,
For that at least is equalled by my own:
His carriage can to none obliging be,
’Tis rude, affected, full of vanity:
Strangely ill natur’d, peevish and unkind,
Unconstant, false, to jealousy inclin’d:
His temper could not have so great a power,
’Tis mutable, and changes every hour:
Those vigorous years that women so adore
Are past in him: he ’s twice my age and more;
And yet I love this false, this worthless man,
With all the passion that a woman can;
Doat on his imperfections, though I spy
Nothing to love; I love, and know not why.
Since ’tis decreed in the dark book of Fate,
That I should love, and he should be ingrate.

“Choice” by Angela Morgan

I’d rather have the thought of you
To hold against my heart,
My spirit to be taught of you
With west winds blowing,
Than all the warm caresses
Of another love’s bestowing,
Or all the glories of the world
In which you had no part.

I’d rather have the theme of you
To thread my nights and days,
I’d rather have the dream of you
With faint stars glowing,
I’d rather have the want of you,
The rich, elusive taunt of you
Forever and forever and forever unconfessed
Than claim the alien comfort
Of any other’s breast.

O lover! O my lover,
That this should come to me!
I’d rather have the hope for you,
Ah, Love, I’d rather grope for you
Within the great abyss
Than claim another’s kiss—
Alone I’d rather go my way
Throughout eternity.

a  spring beauty on a swing with white blossoms

“My Heart Is a Lute” by Lady Blanche Elizabeth Fitzroy Lindsay

Alas, that my heart is a lute,
Whereon you have learned to play!
For a many years it was mute,
Until one summer’s day
You took it, and touched it, and made it thrill,
And it thrills and throbs, and quivers still!
I had known you, dear, so long!
Yet my heart did not tell me why
It should burst one morn into song,
And wake to new life with a cry,
Like a babe that sees the light of the sun,
And for whom this great world has just begun.
Your lute is enshrined, cased in,
Kept close with love’s magic key,
So no hand but yours can win
And wake it to minstrelsy;
Yet leave it not silent too long, nor alone,
Lest the strings should break, and the music be done.

“Absence” by Walter Savage Landor

Here, ever since you went abroad,
If there be change no change I see:
I only walk our wonted road,
The road is only walk’d by me.

Yes; I forgot; a change there is—
Was it of that you bade me tell?
I catch at times, at times I miss
The sight, the tone, I know so well.

Only two months since you stood here?
Two shortest months? Then tell me why
Voices are harsher than they were,
And tears are longer ere they dry.

“Is Love, Then, So Simple” by Irene Rutherford Mcleod

Is love, then, so simple my dear?
The opening of a door,
And seeing all things clear?
I did not know before.

I had thought it unrest and desire
Soaring only to fall,
Annihilation and fire:
It is not so at all.

I feel no desperate will,
But I think I understand
Many things, as I sit quite still,
With Eternity in my hand.

a pretty woman with pink flower head wreath is walking in pink flower garden

“Unworthy Love” by Mary Austin

How is it with my heart
Since I can love you?
Flawed in the casting,
So that your spirit,
When I strike it with nobleness,
Rings no tone truly.
Yet, at that flattened note,
The soul of every sense,
Shouldering each on each,
Runs and looks out of the windows,
While deep in the house of life
Age-long, unimagined instincts
Bay at the voice of the master.

“Song” by Helen Dudley

A few more windy days
Must come and go their ways,
And we will walk
My love and I
Beneath the amber-dripping boughs.
Then on the stars we’ll tread,
On purple stars and red,
And wonder why
The while we talk
Men sing so much of broken vows.

“In Absence” by Moireen Fox

O thorn tree, shake thy blossoms upon the wind;
Cover with leaves thy deep snow-laden boughs
That swiftly may sweet crimson berries ripen.
My love has sworn when leaves and blossoms are faded,
And thy bare branches are held blood-red to the skies,
He will kiss grief and longing away from my heart.

The silver wings of the sea-birds flash and go;
The sea trembles unveiling itself to the day.
Why comest thou not? Why must I wait for thee?
Is love so gentle to thee that thou sleepest unwaking?
Is thy breath unhastened, thy brow dry and untortured?
Dost thou rather seek the me in dreams than here on my breast?
The beating of my heart has nightlong shaken my body—
So great an anguish is my longing that sight fails;
My limbs shudder with the bitterness of my desire.
If thou hastenest not death were easier to me than this.

Perchance I am truly dead at last, beloved,
And my body is lying still in some quiet place
And thou art weeping for me.
But I am one of the driven tormented dead
Whom the cold darkness sunders for ever from rest,
And this that consumes my heart is the pain of hell.

I remember thee, O beloved, as one dead remembers the living.
Faintly the sound of thy voice and thy laughter lingers about me,
Yet ever thy face is a star burning unquenched through my darkness.
Too far I have left thee behind me to know if love be forgotten,
For weeping and laughter and love have mingled their voices and ceased.
Only I hear the sound of great seas long since overpassed me.
Lo, I would sleep, beloved, lulled by uttermost silence;
Sleep with even thy face covered away and forgotten
Lost in a sleep unbroken by dreams or love or awakening.

a pretty country maiden with flowers

“Golden Bough” by Helen Hoyt

Let it not be, love, underneath a roof,
Closed in with furniture , and four walls round;
But we will find a place wild, far aloof,
Our room the woods, our bed the sweet
smelled ground.

There at the soft foot of some friendly tree
With grass and leaves and flowers we will lie
Where all is wide and beautiful and free
Free as when love first loved beneath the sky.

No lock or curtain need we in the shade
And silence of the forest’s inmost fold:
And none save us shall know where we are laid
Or guess what nuptial day those woodlands hold.

There fitly may we bring our loves to greet
That ancient love, more old than wind or sod;
Fitly where beasts and flowers wed shall meet
Our lips, our limbs, beneath the look of God.

“Love Is Enough” by William Morris

Love is enough: though the World be a-waning,
And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,
Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover
The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder,
Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder,
And this day draw a veil over all deeds pass’d over,
Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter;
The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter
These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.

Poems About Falling in Love for Her

a charming blonde lady with a red flower head wreath in the woods

Let Cupid strike your heart once more and experience the joy of falling in love again!

Within these verses, you will find an ode to the tender moments, the fluttering hearts, and the undeniable allure of love’s embrace.

“Ah, How Sweet” by John Dryden

Ah, how sweet it is to love!
Ah, how gay is young desire!
And what pleasing pains we prove
When we first approach love’s fire!
Pains of love be sweeter far
Than all other pleasures are.

Sighs which are from lovers blown
Do but gently heave the heart:
E’en the tears they shed alone
Cure, like trickling balm, their smart.
Lovers, when they lose their breath,
Bleed away in easy death.

Love and Time with reverence use,
Treat them like a parting friend;
Nor the golden gifts refuse
Which in youth sincere they send:
For each year their price is more,
And they less simple than before.

Love, like spring-tides full and high,
Swells in every youthful vein;
But each tide does less supply,
Till they quite shrink in again.
If a flow in age appear,
‘Tis but rain, and runs not clear.

“Cupid Swallowed” from the Greek (Leigh Hunt, Translator)

T’ other day, as I was twining
Roses for a crown to dine in,
What, of all things, midst the heap,
Should I light on, fast asleep,
But the little desperate elf,
The tiny traitor,—Love himself!
By the wings I pinched him up
Like a bee, and in a cup
Of my wine I plunged and sank him;
And what d’ ye think I did ?—I drank him!
Faith, I thought him dead. Not he!
There he lives with tenfold glee;
And now this moment, with his wings
I feel him tickling my heart-strings.

“Then First It Was” by Helen Hoyt

Then it was I knew the sorrow of love:
When first I saw your face at my breast in the dawn,
Not exaltation, not pride, not compassion,
But sorrow infinite, aching sorrow filled me
As I laid back the hair from your brow
And looked at your eyelids’ heaviness.

a beautiful lady in a magical forest with blooming white flowers on a sunny day

“Increase” by Helen Hoyt

Loving you so, how could I know
That I should ever grow
To love you more? And ever more, and more;
So that the love I had before,
And thought so great , seems almost naught.
Brightly, yet strangely wrought
Was that old love-attire:
Woven out of desire, out of clouds and fire.

But this is a new way of loving you;
This, night and day, tranquilly, gay;
Not as lovers do who are yet two,
For now I am part of you;
You are not separate from me;
Now we have come to be
One piece of life; move indivisibly.

“Welcome, Welcome, Do I Sing” by William Browne

Welcome, welcome, do I sing,
Far more welcome than the spring;
He that parteth from you never
Shall enjoy a spring forever.

Love, that to the voice is near,
Breaking from your ivory pale,
Need not walk abroad to hear
The delightful nightingale.
Welcome, welcome, then I sing, etc.

Love, that still looks on your eyes
Though the winter have begun
To benumb our arteries,
Shall not want the summer’s sun.
Welcome, welcome, then I sing, etc.

Love, that still may see your cheeks,
Where all rareness still reposes,
Is a fool if e’er he seeks
Other lilies, other roses.
Welcome, welcome, then I sing, etc.

Love, to whom your soft lip yields,
And perceives your breath in kissing,
All the odors of the fields
Never, never shall be missing.

From “Hero and Leander” by Christopher Marlowe

It lies not in our power to love or hate,
For will in us is over-ruled by fate.
When two are stript long e’er the course begin,
We wish that one should lose, the other win;
And one especially do we affect
Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:
The reason no man knows; let it suffice,
What we behold is censured by our eyes.
Where both deliberate, the love is slight:
Who ever loved, that loved not at first sight?

a lovely lady in white among the purple flowers in the field

“Sonnets from the Portuguese: XLIV” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Belovëd, thou hast brought me many flowers
Plucked in the garden, all the summer through,
And winter, and it seemed as if they grew
In this close room, nor missed the sun and showers.
So, in the like name of that love of ours,
Take back these thoughts which here unfolded too,
And which on warm and cold days I withdrew
From my heart’s ground. Indeed, those beds and bowers
Be overgrown with bitter weeds and rue,
And wait thy weeding; yet here’s eglantine,
Here’s ivy!—take them, as I used to do
Thy flowers, and keep them where they shall not pine.
Instruct thine eyes to keep their colours true,
And tell thy soul, their roots are left in mine.

“The Woman Who Loves” by Rainer Maria Rilke (Jessie Lemont, Translator)

Ah yes! I long for you. To you I glide
And lose myself—for to you I belong.
The hope that hitherto I have denied
Imperious comes to me as from your side
Serious, unfaltering and swift and strong.

Those times: the times when I was quite alone
By memories wrapt that whispered to me low,
My silence was the quiet of a stone
Over which rippling murmuring waters flow.

But in these weeks of the awakening Spring
Something within me has been freed—something
That in the past dark years unconscious lay,
Which rises now within me and commands
And gives my poor warm life into your hands
Who know not what I was that Yesterday.

“Life” by Lizzie M. Little

O Life! that mystery that no man knows,
And all men ask: the Arab from his sands,
The Cæsar’s self, lifting imperial hands,
And the lone dweller where the lotus blows;
O’er trackless tropics, and o’er silent snows,
She dumbly broods, that Sphinx of all the lands;
And if she answers, no man understands,
And no cry breaks the blank of her repose.
But a new form rose once upon my pain,
With grave, sad lips, but in the eyes a smile
Of deepest meaning dawning sweet and slow,
Lighting to service, and no more in vain.
I ask of Life, “What art thou?”—as erewhile—
For since Love holds my hand I seem to know!

a dreamy young princess in pink beautiful lace dress and flowers in her hair

“Name” by Helen Hoyt

My name is beautiful to me when you say it,
A new name.
No one ever had this name before;
Your voice changes it;
It is a new name,
Never till now spoken or any touch laid on it.

“The Meeting” by Sara Teasdale

I’m happy, I’m happy,
I saw my love to-day.
He came along the crowded street,
By all the ladies gay,
And oh, he smiled and spoke to me
Before he went his way.
My throat was tight with happiness,
I couldn’t say a word,
My heart was beating fast, so fast
I’m sure he must have heard;
And when he passed, I trembled like
A little frightened bird.
I wish I were the flower-girl
Who waits beside the way,
I’d give my flowers all to him
And see him every day;
I wish I were the flower-girl
Who waits beside the way.

“A Woman’s Question” by Adelaide Anne Procter

Before I trust my fate to thee,
Or place my hand in thine,
Before I let thy future give
Color and form to mine,
Before I peril all for thee, question thy soul
tonight for me.

I break all slighter bonds, nor feel
A shadow of regret:
Is there one link within the past
That holds thy spirit yet?
Or is thy faith as clear and free as that which I
can pledge to thee?

Does there within thy dimmest dreams
A possible future shine,
Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe,
Untouched, unshared by mine?
If so, at any pain or cost, O, tell me before
all is lost!

Look deeper still. If thou canst feel,
Within thy inmost soul,
That thou hast kept a portion back,
While I have staked the whole,
Let no false pity spare the blow, but in true
mercy tell me so.

Is there within thy heart a need
That mine cannot fulfil?
One cord that any other hand
Could better wake or still?
Speak now, lest at some future day my whole life
wither and decay.

Lives there within thy nature hid
The demon- spirit, Change,
Shedding a passing glory still
On all things new and strange?
It may not be thy fault alone-but shield my heart
against thine own.

Couldst thou withdraw thy hand one day
And answer to my claim,
That Fate, and that to-day’s mistake
Not thou-had been to blame?
Some soothe their conscience thus; but thou wilt
surely warn and save me now.

Nay, answer not, I dare not hear,
The words would come too late;
Yet I would spare thee all remorse,
So, comfort thee, my fate
Whatever on my heart may fall
would risk it all!

an attractive lady in a lace dress sits on a beach wearing a flower wreath

“To One Away” by Sara Teasdale

I heard a cry in the night,
A thousand miles it came,
Sharp as a flash of light,
My name, my name!

It was your voice I heard,
You waked and loved me so,
I send you back this word,
I know, I know!

“A Man’s Requirements” by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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

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

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

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

Love me with thine hand stretched out
Love me with thy loitering foot,—
Hearing one behind it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Night Song at Amalfi” by Sara Teasdale

I asked the heaven of stars
What I should give my love—
It answered me with silence,
Silence above.

I asked the darkened sea
Down where the fishers go—
It answered me with silence,
Silence below.

Oh, I could give him weeping,
Or I could give him song—
But how can I give silence,
My whole life long?

a stunning woman in green fluttering dress walking in green field

“I Do Not Love Thee” by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton

I do not love thee!—no! I do not love thee!
And yet when thou art absent I am sad;
And envy even the bright blue sky above thee,
Whose quiet stars may see thee and be glad.

I do not love thee!—yet, I know not why,
Whate’er thou dost seems still well done, to me:
And often in my solitude I sigh
That those I do love are not more like thee!

I do not love thee!—yet, when thou art gone,
I hate the sound (though those who speak be dear)
Which breaks the lingering echo of the tone
Thy voice of music leaves upon my ear.

I do not love thee!—yet thy speaking eyes,
With their deep, bright and most expressive blue,
Between me and the midnight heaven arise,
Oftener than any eyes I ever knew.

I know I do not love thee! yet, alas!
Others will scarcely trust my candid heart;
And oft I catch them smiling as they pass,
Because they see me gazing where thou art.

“Forbidden Lave” by Lady Currie (Violet Fane)

Oh, love! thou that shelterest some
’Neath thy wings, so white and warm,
Wherefore on a bat-like wing
All disguisèd didst thou come
In so terrible a form?
As a dark forbidden thing,
As a demon of the air—
As a sorrow and a sin,
Wherefore cam’st thou thus to me,
As a tempter and a snare?
When the heart that beats within
This, my bosom, warm’d to thee,
Was it from a love of sinning,
From a fatal love of wrong,
From a wish to shun the light?
Nay! I swear at the beginning
Hadst thou sung an angel’s song,—
Had this wrong thing been the right,
Thou hadst seem’d as worth the winning,
And with will as firm and strong
I had lov’d with all my might.

“Love’s Springtide” by Frank Dempster Sherman

My heart was winter-bound until
I heard you sing;
O voice of Love, hush not, but fill
My life with Spring!

My hopes were homeless things before
I saw your eyes;
O smile of Love, close not the door
To paradise!

My dreams were bitter once, and then
I found them bliss;
O lips of Love, give me again
Your rose to kiss!

Springtide of Love! The secret sweet
Is ours alone;
O heart of Love, at last you beat
Against my own!

a young beautiful girl in a white dress with hair wreath is sitting by the river in the forest

“That Day You Came” by Lizette Woodworth Reese

Such special sweetness was about
That day God sent you here,
I knew the lavender was out,
And it was mid of year.

Their common way the great winds blew,
The ships sailed out to sea;
Yet ere that day was spent I knew
Mine own had come to me.

As after song some snatch of tune
Lurks still in grass or bough,
So, somewhat of the end o’ June
Lurks in each weather now.

The young year sets the buds astir,
The old year strips the trees;
But ever in my lavender
I hear the brawling bees.

“Acceptance” by Willard Wattles

I cannot think nor reason,
I only know he came
With hands and feet of healing
And wild heart all aflame.

With eyes that dimmed and softened
At all the things he saw,
And in his pillared singing
I read the marching Law.

I only know he loves me,
Enfolds and understands—
And oh, his heart that holds me,
And oh, his certain hands!

“Hidden Flame” by John Dryden

I feed a flame within, which so torments me
That it both pains my heart, and yet contents me:
‘Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it,
That I had rather die than once remove it.

Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it;
My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it.
Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses,
But they fall silently, like dew on roses.

Thus, to prevent my Love from being cruel,
My heart‘s the sacrifice, as ’tis the fuel;
And while I suffer this to give him quiet,
My faith rewards my love, though he deny it.

On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me;
While I conceal my love no frown can fright me.
To be more happy I dare not aspire,
Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher.

a woman standing in the field and holding a wreath of flowers

“I Will Not Give Thee All My Heart” by Grace Hazard Conkling

I will not give thee all my heart
For that I need a place apart
To dream my dreams in, and I know
Few sheltered ways for dreams to go:
But when I shut the door upon
Some secret wonder—still, withdrawn—
Why dost thou love me even more,
And hold me closer than before?

When I of Love demand the least,
Thou biddest him to fire and feast:
When I am hungry and would eat,
There is no bread, though crusts were sweet.
If I with manna may be fed,
Shall I go all uncomforted?
Nay! Howsoever dear thou art,
I will not give thee all my heart.

“Keep My Hand” by Louise Driscoll

Keep my hand, because I am afraid
To be alone—
I am afraid of all the dreams I made.
If you were shown
Dream after little dream that I made gay
To keep my spirit strong upon the way,
You would hold my hand closer than you do
Within your own!

“Love” by Moireen Fox

Whence hast thou come? I have heard the night speak through thee,
I have heard the winds cry out at thy coming,
I have known the silent earth draw near with thee.
Thou hast brought close to me the terror of the skies,
Thou hast brought the fragrance of the white thorn blossom
And the cold strange darkness of the sea.

a lady hugging her lover in the flower garden

“We Were Together” by Helen Hoyt

We were together wandering I know not where,
A way of clouds that soft beneath our feet
Slid back in slow retreat
As we did onward fare
Lightly, silently, slowly through the golden air.

And each to each was rapturously dear,
Walking hand in hand, and save us two
Was naught in all that blue
Of liquid atmosphere;
Yet we thrilled as if unventured worlds lay
waiting near.

In perfect comradeship , complete assent
Of hearts and minds and senses did we move,
Wholly in our own love
And eager talk intent,
Nor needed any word to utter what we meant.