Have you ever wished you could express your feelings in a way that truly touches his heart?
Long love poems can create an intimate connection, making him feel cherished and understood.
Here are 10 stunning long love poems for him that not only resonate with him but will also remind him of the beautiful bond you share.
Let’s jump right in!
My favorite long love poem for him
#1 “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.
This poem beautifully captures the essence of love enduring through the changing seasons of life.
I can imagine sharing this poem with him, evoking feelings of nostalgia and joy as we reflect on our journey together.
The lines remind me that no matter the challenges we face, our love remains a powerful force that shields us from despair.
9 more long love poems for him
#2 “Ah, When He Is Mine” by Novalis (Pseud. for Friedrich von Hardenberg)
Ah, when He is mine,
When I hold Him fast,
When His loyalty divine
Fills my heart unto the last—
I feel no distress,
Only worship, love and happiness.
Ah, when He is mine,
Gladly I leave all,
Rise and wander at His sign,
Faithful to my Master’s call.
Let the others go
On the broad and lighted roads they know.
Ah, when He is mine,
I can sleep in calm,
Ever cheering me like wine
Is His heart’s sweet healing balm,
Holding us in thrall,
Gently soothing, penetrating all.
Ah, when He is mine,
Then the world’s mine, too;
As a seraph at her shrine
Holds the Virgin’s veil of blue—
Blissful, I adore,
Earthly things can frighten me no more.
Ah, where He is mine,
Is my fatherland;
Like my share, each gift divine
Gently falls into my hand.
Friends who went astray
Now I find disciples on His way.
#3 “Love” by Dora Sigerson Shorter
Deep in the moving depths
Of yellow wine,
I swore I’d drown your face,
O love of mine;
All clad in yellow hue,
So fair to see,
You crouched within my cup
And laughed at me.
Twice o’er a learned page
I turned and tossed,
For would I not forget
The love I lost.
All stern and robed in gloom,
You read it too,
I could not see the words-
Saw only you.
Within the hungry chase
I thought to kill
You, love, who haunted thus
Without my will,
But in the gentle gaze
Of fawn and deer,
Your eyes disarmed my hand,
And shook my spear.
Beneath a maid’s dark lash
I swore you’d drown,
Sink in the laughing blue-
Give in, go down:
But no! you bathë”d there
Right joyously,
And from her liquid eyes
You laughed at me.
#4 “Spring Rain” by Sara Teasdale
I thought I had forgotten,
But it all came back again
To-night with the first spring thunder
In a rush of rain.
I remembered a darkened doorway
Where we stood while the storm swept by,
Thunder gripping the earth
And lightning scrawled on the sky.
The passing motor busses swayed,
For the street was a river of rain,
Lashed into little golden waves
In the lamp light’s stain.
With the wild spring rain and thunder
My heart was wild and gay;
Your eyes said more to me that night
Than your lips would ever say. . . .
I thought I had forgotten,
But it all came back again
To-night with the first spring thunder
In a rush of rain.
#5 “You Never Guessed The Secret” by Katharine Forrest Hamill
You never guessed the secret,
Nor have unto to-day.
The truth of it never reached you,
I hid it so well away.
The truth of how I loved you,
Yet spake not, for your sake;
Nor is it easy to put aside
What One so longs to take.
The voice of you, in my musings,
The glance of you, in my dreams;
The feeling, you ever were near me,
Even now, how compelling it seems!
As if but to turn—were to see you;
To know the clasp of your hand;
Yet, I guarded the knowledge carefully,
And you did not understand.
Still the thought of you hurt, and I hungered—
Hungered, day and night,
It will count when the story is ended,
I was able to see aright.
You never guessed the secret,
Nor have unto to-day.
The truth of it never reached you,
I hid it so well away.
#6 “The Great Man” by Eunice Tietjens
I cannot always feel his greatness.
Sometimes he walks beside me, step by step,
And paces slowly in the ways—
The simple, wingless ways
That my thoughts tread. He gossips with me then,
And finds it good;
Not as an eagle might, his great wings folded, be content
To walk a little, knowing it his choice,
But as a simple man,
My friend.
And I forget.
Then suddenly a call floats down
From the clear airy spaces,
The great keen, lonely heights of being.
And he who was my comrade hears the call
And rises from my side, and soars,
Deep-chanting, to the heights.
Then I remember.
And my upward gaze goes with him, and I see
Far off against the sky
The glint of golden sunlight on his wings.
#7 “The Love that Speaks in Word and Kiss” by Thomas Runciman
The Love that speaks in word and kiss,
That dyes the cheek and fires the eye,
Through surface signs of shallow bliss
That, quickly born, may quickly die;
Sweet, sweet are these to man and woman;
Who thinks them poor is less than human.
But I do know a quavering tone,
And I do know lack-lustre eyes,
Behind the which, dumb and alone,
A stronger Love his labour plies:
He cannot sing or dance or toy –
He works and sighs for other’s joy.
In gloom he tends the growth of food,
While others joy in sun and flowers:
None knows the passion of his mood
Save they who know what bitter hours
Are his whose heart, alive to beauty,
Yet dies to it and lives for duty.
#8 “Love That Lives” by George Parsons Lathrop
Dear face — bright, glinting hair;
Dear life, whose heart is mine —
The thought of you is prayer,
The love of you divine.
In starlight, or in rain;
In the sunset’s shrouded glow;
Ever, with joy or pain,
To you my quick thoughts go
Like winds or clouds, that fleet
Across the hungry space
Between, and find you, sweet,
Where life again wins grace.
Now, as in that once young
Year that so softly drew
My heart to where it clung,
I long for, gladden in you.
And when in the silent hours
I whisper your sacred name,
Like an altar-fire it showers
My blood with fragrant flame!
Perished is all that grieves;
And lo, our old-new joys
Are gathered as in sheaves,
Held in love’s equipoise.
Ours is the love that lives;
Its springtime blossoms blow
‘Mid the fruit that autumn gives,
And its life outlasts the snow.
#9 “The Betrothal” by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Oh, come, my lad, or go, my lad,
And love me if you like!
I hardly hear the door shut
Or the knocker strike.
Oh, bring me gifts or beg me gifts,
And wed me if you will!
I’d make a man a good wife,
Sensible and still.
And why should I be cold, my lad,
And why should you repine,
Because I love a dark head
That never will be mine?
I might as well be easing you
As lie alone in bed
And waste the night in wanting
A cruel dark head!
You might as well be calling yours
What never will be his,
And one of us be happy;
There’s few enough as is.
#10 “A Little Song” by Amy Lowell
When you, my Dear, are away, away,
How wearily goes the creeping day.
A year drags after morning, and night
Starts another year of candle light.
O Pausing Sun and Lingering Moon!
Grant me, I beg of you, this boon.
Whirl round the earth as never sun
Has his diurnal journey run.
And, Moon, slip past the ladders of air
In a single flash, while your streaming hair
Catches the stars and pulls them down
To shine on some slumbering Chinese town.
O Kindly Sun! Understanding Moon!
Bring evening to crowd the footsteps of noon.
But when that long awaited day
Hangs ripe in the heavens, your voyaging stay.
Be morning, O Sun! with the lark in song,
Be afternoon for ages long.
And, Moon, let you and your lesser lights
Watch over a century of nights.