43 Thoughtful Poems About Ex Girlfriends

Photo of author
Updated on

Here are my favorite poems about an ex girlfriend categorized:

  • Short poems about ex girlfriends
  • Poems about ex girlfriends that you miss
  • Poems for ex girlfriends you still love
  • Heart-touching poems about ex girlfriends

So if you want the best poems about ex girlfriends, then you’re in the right place.

Let’s get into it!

43 Thoughtful Poems About Ex Girlfriends (+ My #1 Fav)
Contents: hide

Thoughtful Poems About Ex Girlfriends

a pretty lady in a red dress standing near the purple wisteria flowers in the garden

We would like to inspire you with the most beautiful and heartfelt collection of poems about ex-girlfriends that are sure to captivate your heart.

Breakups can be tough, but what better way to express those emotions than through the art of words?

From the bittersweet reminiscences of love lost to the heartrending tales of relationships gone awry, these poems cover a range of emotions with a touch of wit and charm.

Let these verses take you on a journey through the rollercoaster of love and heartbreak.

Whether you’ve experienced a breakup or simply appreciate the power of words, this poetic selection is bound to leave you feeling both entertained and understood.

Let’s get straight to it!

Get unique love poems with heartfelt notes weekly. Join thousands of others. For free.
Leave this field blank
100% free. We respect your privacy. Unsubscribe at any time.

My #1 Favorite Poem About Ex Girlfriends

a stunning lady in a lavender dress standing by the blooming wisteria

“Had We Not Met” by Freeman Edwin Miller

Had we not met, the brooding woe
And all the griefs that greater grow,
Might not have been, and happy-wise
Our lives have laughed with lullabies
And quaffed such joys as few may know.

Our days beneath embittered skies
Where anguish moans and sorrow cries,
Might not have wept and wandered so,
Had we not met!

But ah, my darling! All we prize,—
Love and sweet trust that never dies,
Wild yearnings that with constant flow
From kindred heart to bosom go,—
Would never in our souls had rise,
Had we not met!

Why Is “Had We Not Met” My Favorite Poem About Ex Girlfriends

an enchanting lady in a floral dress surrounded with floating magnolia flower petals in the air

When reflecting on an ex, we sometimes find ourselves overcome by regret as we try to navigate the overwhelming emotions of loss and longing for the person who used to be by our side.

For me, Miller’s “Had We Not Met” perfectly captures that sentiment, making it incredibly relatable and comforting.

The poet skillfully captures the complexities and challenges of losing someone he still deeply cares for.

While he effectively portrays a person who, after a breakup, feels a sense of remorse due to the pain and suffering he has endured, he concludes the poem on a more positive note.

The poet recognizes that love, despite the hardships, is something he would not have experienced if he had not met his ex-lover.

Short Poems About Ex Girlfriends

a gloomy twilight spring field with wild grass and flowers and a young woman walking through the field

Dive into this collection of short poems about an ex-girlfriend, where emotions intertwine with memories, and words dance to the rhythm of bittersweet tales.

In this poetic journey we explore the highs and lows of love, heartbreak, and the intricate tapestry of relationships in a way that resonates with our shared human experiences.

“She I love (alas in vain!)” by Walter Savage Landor

She I love (alas in vain!)
Floats before my slumbering eyes:
When she comes she lulls my pain,
When she goes what pangs arise!
Thou whom love, whom memory flies,
Gentle Sleep! prolong thy reign!
If even thus she soothe my sighs,
Never let me wake again!

“I Shall Forget” by Laurence Hope

Although my life, which thou hast scarred and shaken,
Retains awhile some influence of thee,
As shells, by faithless waves long since forsaken,
Still murmur with the music of the Sea,
I shall forget. Not thine the haunting beauty,
Which, once beheld, for ever holds the heart,
Or, if resigned from stress of Fate or Duty,
Takes part of life away:—the dearer part.
I gave thee love; thou gavest but Desire.
Ah, the delusion of that summer night!
Thy soul vibrated at the rate of Fire;
Mine, with the rhythm of the waves of Light.
It is my love for thee that I regret,
Not thee, thyself, and hence,—I shall forget!

“Separation” by Walter Savage Landor

There is a mountain and a wood between us,
Where the lone shepherd and late bird have seen us
Morning and noon and eventide repass.
Between us now the mountain and the wood
Seem standing darker than last year they stood,
And say we must not cross, alas! alas!

a beautiful young lady dressed in a pretty orange traditional dress and a blooming cherry blossom tree in spring

“Hopeless Love” by Emily Thornton Charles

‘Tis true you love no more, while I,
Waken to know that love can die
Waken to know that hath been given,
To bring regret, a taste of Heaven;
Live but to know the fond caress
Was all of earthly happiness;
Live but to feel the longing pain
Of hopeless love-unloved again.

“You Will Not Come Again” by Dora Sigerson Shorter

The green has come to the leafless tree,
The earth brings forth its grain;
The flower has come for the honey bee:
You will not come again.

The birds have come to the empty nest,
All winter full of rain;
So music has come where the silence was:
You will not come again.

Love will come for the weak lambs’ cry;
Alas for my heart’s dull pain!
In the cycle of change I alone am lone:
You will not come again.

“Alone in Spring” by Caroline Giltinan

I never met the Spring alone before:
The flowers, birds, the loveliness of trees,
For with me always there was one I love—
And love is shield against such gifts as these.

But now I am alone, alone, alone;
The days and nights one long remembering.
Did other Aprils that we shared possess
The hurting beauty of this living Spring?

I never met the Spring alone before—
My starving grief—this radiance of gold!…
To be alone, when Spring is being born,
One should be dead—or suddenly grown old.

a stunning red haired lady standing in the mysterious but lovely flower garden in the woods

“The Lover Left by His Love at Evening” by John Keats

The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hands, and softer breast,
Warm breath, light whisper, tender semitone,
Bright eyes, accomplished shape, and lang’rous waist!
Faded the flower and all its budded charms;
Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes;
Faded the shape of beauty from my arms;
Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise,—
Vanished unseasonably at shut of eve,
When the dusk holiday—or holinight—
Of fragrant-curtained love begins to weave
The woof of darkness thick, for hid delight;
But, as I’ve read love’s missal through to-day,
He’ll let me sleep, seeing I fast and pray.

“Whom Does She Love?” by Arthur William Ryder

With one she gossips full of art;
Her glances with a second flirt;
She holds another in her heart:
Whom does she love enough to hurt?

Poems About Ex Girlfriends That You Miss

the face of an enchanting red haired nymph and pretty flowers

In the realm of bittersweet memories and lost love, lies a collection of poems that capture the longing and nostalgia for an ex-girlfriend.

Within these verses, the words dance with emotions, painting a vivid tapestry of missed connections and the enduring echoes of a past romance.

“Solitude” by John Cave

Darling! the very thoughts of thee
Are tinged with twilight’s sadness.
It was your voice that gave the sea
Its wild sweet note of gladness.
And all the waves cry out in pain,
And all the deep is raving,
For till I find your arms again,
My heart is mad with craving.

Darling! it was your presence drew
Sweet scent from all the roses,
But now I search the garden through,
And every blossom closes.
And nothing but the dead leaves lie,
On sodden paths now haunted,
Where once your fairy feet would fly
To meet my hands undaunted.

Darling! the couch where once we kissed
Before the flames bright flashes,
And love surrendered what it list
Is cold-the hearth is ashes.
Come back to me, and with thy breath
The slumbering embers fan,
Revive the roses from their death
As only you, Love, can.

“The Past” by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Wilt thou forget the happy hours
Which we buried in Love’s sweet bowers,
Heaping over their corpses cold
Blossoms and leaves instead of mould?
Blossoms which were the joys that fell,
And leaves, the hopes that yet remain.

Forget the dead, the past? O yet
There are ghosts that may take revenge for it,
Memories that make the heart a tomb,
Regrets which glide through the spirit’s gloom,
And with ghastly whispers tell
That joy, once lost, is pain.

“To-Night The Music Doth A Burden Bear” by Richard Watson Gilder

To-night the music doth a burden bear,—
One word that moans and murmurs; doth exhale
Tremulously as perfume on the air
From out a rose blood-red, or lily pale;
The burden is thy name, dear soul of me,
Which the rapt melodist unknowing all
Still doth repeat through fugue and reverie;
Thy name, to him unknown, to me doth call—
And weeps my heart at every music-fall.

a fair innocent-looking red-haired lady enjoying the outdoors at daylight

“Your Shadow” by John Frederick Freeman

From Swindon out to White Horse Hill
I walked, in morning rain,
And saw your shadow lying there.
As clear and plain
As lies the White Horse on the Hill
I saw your shadow lying there.

Over the wide green downs and bleak,
Unthinking, free I walked,
And saw your shadow fluttering by.
Almost it talked,
Answering what I dared not speak
While thoughts of you ran fluttering by….

So on to Baydon sauntered, teased
With that pure native air.
Sometimes the sweetness of wild thyme
The strings of care
Did pluck; sometimes my soul was eased
With more than sweetness of wild thyme.

Sometimes within a pool I caught
Your face, upturned to mine.
And where sits Chilton by the waters
Your look did shine
Wildly in the mill foam that sought
To hide you in those angry waters.

And yet, O Sweet, you never knew
Those downs, the thymy air
That with your spirit haunted is–
Yes, everywhere!
Ah, but my heart is full of you,
And with your shadow haunted is.

“Young Love XVI – Love Afar” by Richard Le Gallienne

Love, art thou lonely to-day?
Lost love that I never see,
Love that, come noon or come night,
Comes never to me;
Love that I used to meet
In the hidden past, in the land
Of forbidden sweet.

Love! do you never miss
The old light in the days?
Does a hand
Come and touch thee at whiles
Like the wand of old smiles,
Like the breath of old bliss?
Or hast thou forgot,
And is all as if not?

What was it we swore?
I and Thou,’
Ah, but Fate held the pen
And wrote N
Just before:
So that now,
See, it stands,
Our seals and our hands,
‘I and Thou,

We said ‘It is best!’
And then, dear, I went
And returned not again.
Forgive that I stir,
Like a breath in thy hair,
The old pain,
‘Twas unmeant.
I will strive, I will wrest
Iron peace – it is best.

But, O for thy hand
Just to hold for a space,
For a moment to stand
In the light of thy face;
Translate Then to Now,
To hear ‘Is it Thou?’
And reply
‘It is I!’
Then, then I could rest,
Ah, then I could wait
Long and late.

“Years Ago” by John Hartley

Annie I dreamed a strange dream last night,
At my bedside, I dreamed, you stood clad in white;
Your dark curly hair ’round your snow-white brow, —
(Are those locks as raven and curly now?)
And those rosebud lips, which in days lang syne,
I have kissed and blest, because they were mine.
And thine eyes soft light,
Shone as mellow and bright,
As it did years ago, —
Years ago.

And I fancy I heard the soft soothing sound
Of thy voice, that sweet melody breathed all around,
Whilst enraptured I gazed, and once more the sweet smile,
Made sunshine, my sorrowing heart to beguile,
And thy milkwhite hands stroked my heated brow;—
(Oh! what would I give could I feel them now!)
But alas! Woe is me!
No more can it be,
As it was years ago, —
Years ago.

I awoke with a gnawing pain at my heart,
The vision had vanished, — but oh, the smart
Of the wound, which no time can ever heal,
Was a torment, which only lost souls can feel.
Yet in spite of the pain, the woe, the despair,
I dote, as I look on a lock of dark hair,
That I culled from the head,
Of the loveliest maid;
Many long years ago, —
Years ago.

Will fate ever bring us together again?
Will my heart never know a surcease from pain?
Are the dark locks I worshipped, now mingled with grey?
Has Time stolen brightness and beauty away?
I care not, — for years have but made thee more dear;
But my longing is vain,
Thou wilt ne’er come again.
Lost, — lost, — years ago, —
Years ago.

a carefree lady in a dress lies among wild flowers in a meadow with eyes closed

“Parted” by John Cave

Dear Love, whose never-failing power
Makes sunshine of each weary hour,
And tinges every thought of mine
With something sacred and Divine,
Till even in this lonely place
I hear your voice and see your face.

Oh! think of me when you are sad,
And let that memory make you glad;
For every thought that stirs your breast
Is also by my own possessed.
And every fear that chills me through
Falls vanquished when I think of you.

The very breath of wandering air
That touches me, may stir your hair,
And carry from this lonely sea
A loving kiss to you-from me!
The storm that beats your window- pane
Has my tears mingled with its rain:

Then turn to me, my own love, turn,
Till fancy’s kisses melt and burn,
And that sweet heart you gave to me
Is thrilled with nameless ecstasy;
The heart you gave that I should own
Your whole soul’s love was mine alone.

“The Lost One” by John Clare

I seek her in the shady grove,
And by the silent stream;
I seek her where my fancies rove,
In many a happy dream;
I seek her where I find her not,
In Spring and Summer weather:
My thoughts paint many a happy spot,
But we ne’er meet together.

The trees and bushes speak my choice,
And in the Summer shower
I often hear her pleasant voice,
In many a silent hour:
I see her in the Summer brook,
In blossoms sweet and fair;
In every pleasant place I look
My fancy paints her there.

The wind blows through the forest trees,
And cheers the pleasant day;
There her sweet voice is sure to be
To lull my cares away.
The very hedges find a voice,
So does the gurgling rill;
But still the object of my choice
Is lost and absent still.

“Flame-Heart” by Claude McKay

So much have I forgotten in ten years,
So much in ten brief years; I have forgot
What time the purple apples come to juice
And what month brings the shy forget-me-not;
Forgotten is the special, startling season
Of some beloved tree’s flowering and fruiting,
What time of year the ground doves brown the fields
And fill the noonday with their curious fluting:
I have forgotten much, but still remember
The poinsettia’s red, blood-red in warm December.

I still recall the honey-fever grass,
But I cannot bring back to mind just when
We rooted them out of the ping-wing path
To stop the mad bees in the rabbit pen.
I often try to think in what sweet month
The languid painted ladies used to dapple
The yellow bye road mazing from the main,
Sweet with the golden threads of the rose-apple:
I have forgotten, strange, but quite remember
The poinsettia’s red, blood-red in warm December.

What weeks, what months, what time o’ the mild year
We cheated school to have our fling at tops?
What days our wine-thrilled bodies pulsed with joy
Feasting upon blackberries in the copse?
Oh, some I know! I have embalmed the days,
Even the sacred moments, when we played,
All innocent of passion uncorrupt,
At noon and evening in the flame-heart’s shade:
We were so happy, happy,—I remember
Beneath the poinsettia’s red in warm December.

a carefree beautiful girl in the white dress with hat in a wheat field at sunrise

“To My First Love” by Crowquill

This heart has beat to many a one,
To many, passing fair;
But oh! the Love which first it knew,
Still lingers fondly there;—
Though brighter eyes have beamed on me,—
And rosier lips I’ve prest,
The Love which first I felt for thee—
Yet dwells within my breast.

Tho’ softer skies are o’er me now,
And stars shine brighter here;
Tho’ Nature wears a sunny smile
And birds sing all the year,
Yet I would fain them all resign,
To dwell once more with thee,
For one sweet smile from lips like thine,
Were dearer far to me.

As memory clings around the spot,
Where first the breath we drew,
And all our kindlier thoughts are placed
On scenes that first we knew—
So earliest Love still twines around
The heart which beats to ours,
As Summer’s sweetest dew is found
Upon the earliest flowers.

“An Evening Song at Sea” by C. E. Havens

Sweet night, whence sweeter calm doth flow,
Sweet solitude of sea and sky:
Made sweeter far, because I know
That thou with all sweet things must die;—
For beauty fades from out the eye,
And love itself will cease to be;
As summer winds from tropic shores,
Die on the smooth unruffled sea.

Now, Hesperus, evening star of love
Flings o’er the waves a lane of light;
And constellations from above
Gleam out like di’mond on the sight:
And phosphor, glinting silver-white
From out the deep and dimpled sea,
Looks like another realm of stars
In Heaven’s inverted canopy.

Sweet double star of love and rest,
That usherest in the hour of sleep;
I watch in grief thy waning crest
Go glimmering down the dusky deep.
While other stars their vespers keep,
My longing thoughts revert to thee,
And follow up thy trail of light
To other heavens beyond the sea.

Poems for Ex Girlfriends You Still Love

a lovely woman dressed in a fabulous pink dress in a lavender field

Love, like the shifting tides, can take us on a journey that sometimes leads to unexpected destinations.

In this collection of poems dedicated to an ex-girlfriend, we explore the bittersweet longing, heartfelt memories, and the unspoken hopes that linger in the depths of a love that remains.

“You That Were” by John Frederick Freeman

You that were
Half my life ere life was mine;
You that on my shape the sign
Set of yours;
You that my young lips did kiss
When your kiss summed up my bliss….
Ah, once more
You to kiss were all my bliss!

You whom I
Could forget—strange, could forget
Even for days (ah, now the fret
Of my grief!);
You who loved me though forgot;
Welcomed still, reproaching not….
Ah, that now
That forgetting were forgot!

You that now
On my shoulder as I go
Put your hand that wounds me so;
You that brush
Yet my lips with that one last
Kiss that bitters all things past….
How shall I
Yet endure that kiss the last?

You that are
Where the feet of my blind grief
Find you not, nor find relief;
You that are
Where my thought flying after you
Broken falls and flies anew,
Now you’re gone
My love accusing aches for you.

“To Vega” by Aquila

I dimly can recall what life has been
Before thy transit, my beloved star!
Who broughtest light from where God’s angels are.
Have I been dreaming in a distant scene?
Or am I dreaming now, to wake with keen
Remembrance of Love’s golden gates ajar?
I cannot read my horoscope afar;
I cannot tell how fate may intervene.

I only know the pain it is to part, —
To long for thee where’er I go abroad!
I love thee with each life-beat of my heart;
And when it beats no more, beneath the sod
My soul must love thee still: because thou art
The purest thought that binds my soul to God.

“Does Your Heart Keep Calling?” by Emily Thornton Charles

Does your heart keep calling me, darling
As mine is calling to you,
Through a pure sweet depth of tenderness
That proveth love holy and true?

a young beautiful woman standing in a field of wildflowers in the summer

“The Parting” by Jean Blewett

One summer’s morning I heard a lark
Singing to heaven, a sweet-throated bird;
One winter’s night I was glad in the dark
Because of the wondrous song I had heard.

The joy of life, I have heard you say,
Is my love, my laughter, my smiles and tears;
When I have gone on the long, strange way,
Let these stay with you through all the years —

These be the lark’s song. What is love worth
That cannot crowd, in the time that’s given
To two like us on this gray old earth,
Such bliss as will last till we reach heaven?

Dear one, think oft of the full, glad years,
And, thinking of them, forget to weep.
Whisper: “Remembrance holds no tears!”
And kiss my mouth when I fall on sleep.

“Good-Bye” by Nora Pembroke (Margaret Moran Dixon McDougall)

I cannot write, my tears are flowing fast,
Yet weeping is unnatural to me;
Oh! that this hour of bitterness was past—
The parting hour with all I love and thee

If I had never met or loved thee so,
To part would not have caused me this sharp pain;
Parting so oft occurring here below,
And they who part so seldom meet again.

Yet over land or sea, where’er I go,
My home, my friends, shall flit before my eyes—
And oft I anxiously shall wish to know,
If in thy bosom thoughts of me arise.

Oh, I will think of bygone days of glee,
Though on each point of bitter sorrow driven;
I will not bid thee to remember me,
But oh! see to it that we meet in Heaven.

“Parting” by Bertolt Brecht

We embrace.
Rich cloth under my fingers
While yours touch poor fabric.
A quick embrace
You were invited for dinner
While the minions of law are after me.
We talk about the weather and our
Lasting friendship. Anything else
Would be too bitter.

a mysterious lady surrounded by fireflies in the water on a magical night

“Lines Written In The Bay Of Lerici” by Percy Bysshe Shelley

She left me at the silent time
When the moon had ceased to climb
The azure path of Heaven’s steep,
And like an albatross asleep,
Balanced on her wings of light,
Hovered in the purple night,
Ere she sought her ocean nest
In the chambers of the West.
She left me, and I stayed alone
Thinking over every tone
Which, though silent to the ear,
The enchanted heart could hear,
Like notes which die when born, but still
Haunt the echoes of the hill;
And feeling ever — O too much! —
The soft vibration of her touch,
As if her gentle hand, even now,
Lightly trembled on my brow;
And thus, although she absent were,
Memory gave me all of her
That even Fancy dares to claim: —
Her presence had made weak and tame
All passions, and I lived alone
In the time which is our own;
The past and future were forgot,
As they had been, and would be, not.
But soon, the guardian angel gone,
The dæmon reassumed his throne
In my faint heart. I dare not speak
My thoughts, but thus disturbed and weak
I sat and saw the vessels glide
Over the ocean bright and wide,
Like spirit-winged chariots sent
O’er some serenest element
For ministrations strange and far;
As if to some Elysian star
Sailed for drink to medicine
Such sweet and bitter pain as mine.
And the wind that winged their flight
From the land came fresh and light,
And the scent of wingèd flowers,
And the coolness of the hours
Of dew, and sweet warmth left by day,
Were scattered o’er the twinkling bay.
And the fisher with his lamp
And spear about the low rocks damp
Crept, and struck the fish which came
To worship the delusive flame.
Too happy they, whose pleasure sought
Extinguishes all sense and thought
Of the regret that pleasure leaves,
Destroying life alone, not peace!

“The Parting” by Maurice Henry Hewlett

Breathless was she and would not have us part:
“Adieu, my Saint,” I said, “’tis come to this.”
But she leaned to me, one hand at her heart,
And all her soul sighed trembling in a kiss.

“Oh, Unforgotten and Only Lover” by Laurence Hope

Oh, unforgotten and only lover,
Many years have swept us apart,
But none of the long dividing seasons
Slay your memory in my heart.
In the clash and clamour of things unlovely
My thoughts drift back to the times that were,
When I, possessing thy pale perfection,
Kissed the eyes and caressed the hair.

Other passions and loves have drifted
Over this wandering, restless soul,
Rudderless, chartless, floating always
With some new current of chance control.
But thine image is clear in the whirling waters—
Ah, forgive—that I drag it there,
For it is so part of my very being
That where I wander it too must fare.

Ah, I have given thee strange companions,
To thee—so slender and chaste and cool—
But a white star loses no glimmer of beauty
In all the mud of a miry pool
That holds the grace of its white reflection;
Nothing could fleck thee, nothing could stain,
Thou hast made a home for thy delicate beauty
Where all things peaceful and lovely reign.

Doubtless the night that my soul remembers
Was a sin to thee, and thine only one.
Thou thinkest of it, if thou thinkest ever,
As a crime committed, a deed ill done.
But for me, the broken, the desert-dweller,
Following Life through its underways,—
I know if those midnights thou hadst not granted
I had not lived through these after days.

And that had been well for me; all would say so,
What have I done since I parted from thee?
But things that are wasted, and full of ruin,
All unworthy, even of me.
Yet, it was to me that the gift was given,
No greater joy have the Gods above,—
That night of nights when my only lover,
Though all reluctant, granted me love.

For thy beauty was mine, and my spirit knows it,
Never, ah, never my heart forgets,
One thing fixed, in the torrent of changing,
Faults and follies and fierce regrets.
Thine eyes and thy hair, that were lovely symbols
Of that white soul that their grace enshrined,
They are part of me and my life for ever,
In every fibre and cell entwined.

A young blonde woman standing in an autumn forest with floating floral petals around her

“The Tide’s Turning” by John Cave

Open the window a little,
And turn my head about;
I am going for a long, long journey
Before the tide runs out;
And I want to see the stars once more
Shine sadly o’er the bay,
And hear the murmur of the waves
Like music far away.

You’ve heard them say hard things of me
My love was cold and light,
The blue eyes and the black eyes
Were one to my careless sight.
But had you seen the moonlight shine
On her eyes, as we stood by the river,
Their hazel depths would have been a shrine,
And a memory to dream of for ever.

You see that little flower
With the lock of hair about it?
Lay it just over my heart, old boy;
I cannot die without it.
There is blue in the little flower;
There is hope in the depth of decay;
There is sunshine behind the shower;
But her smile was a sunshine all day.

The tide is going out,
I shall very soon be at rest,
But leave the little blossom
Where you laid it, on my breast:
I shall like to think it near me
When the earth is over my head,
And they chant the grand old service
Above the dumb-deaf-dead.
There is blue in the little flower,
There is hope in the depth of decay,
And the hair that is twined around it,
Like my own, will never grow grey.

The tide is going out,
And my sight is growing weak,
And my breath comes slower-slower,
And I find it hard to speak.
But if ever you chance to meet her,
And she remembers me, Will,
Tell her how much I loved her
Tell her I love her still;
For I know in that far-off country,
Where our sinful souls are shriven,
I shall wait for one more angel
To make of it a heaven.

There was silence in the chamber,
And the watcher’s head bowed low,
And the great tide paused a moment
Between the ebb and flow,
But, ere it rolled back leeward
Along the level sand,
A spirit passed out seaward
A shadow crossed the land.

“Years Ago” by Walter R. Cassels

This day it was—Ah! years ago,
Long years ago, when first we met;
When first her voice thrill’d through my heart,
Aeolian-sweet, thrill’d through my heart;
And glances from her soft brown eyes,
Like gleamings out of Paradise,
Shone on my heart, and made it bright
With fulness of celestial light;
This day it seems—this day—and yet,
Ah! years ago—long years ago.

This day it was—Ah! years ago,
Long years ago, when first I knew
How all her beauty fill’d my soul,
With mystic glory fill’d my soul;
And every word and smile she gave,
Like motions of a sunlit wave,
Rock’d me with divine emotion,
Joyous, o’er Life’s smiling ocean;
This day it seems—this day—and yet,
Ah! years ago—-long years ago.

This day it was—Ah! years ago,
Long years ago, when first I heard,
Amid the silence of my soul,
The fearful silence of my soul,
That warning voice of doom declare—
O God! unmoved by my despair—
How her soft eyes would lose their light,
Their holy, pure, and stainless light,
And all the beauty of her being
Fade sadly, swiftly from my seeing;
This day it seems—Ah me! this day,
Though years ago—sad years ago.

This day it was—Ah! years ago,
Long years ago, when dumb I stood
Beside that little grass-green mound—
Would I had lain beneath the mound!—
And gazed out through my briny tears,
Upon the future lonely years,
Upon the cold, bleak, cheerless years,
Till Earth should ope her grassy breast,
And take me to my welcome rest,
Where she in Death’s cold arms lay prest;
This day it seems—Ah me! this day,
Though years ago—sad years ago.

This day it was—Ah! years ago,
Long years ago; and yet I still
Gaze through moist eyes upon the Past,
The cherish’d, unforgotten Past;
Gaze onward through the coming days,
And wonder, with a sweet amaze,
What sunrise with its rosy light
Will bring her to my longing sight;
What sunset with its golden glow
Will o’er the long-sought slumber flow,
Amid whose visions she shall gleam,
As once she did through youth’s sweet dream,
Ah! years ago—long years ago.

“We Parted In Silence” by Louisa Macartney Crawford

We parted in silence, we parted by night,
On the banks of that lonely river;
Where the fragrant limes their boughs unite,
We met—and we parted forever!
The night-bird sung, and the stars above
Told many a touching story,
Of friends long passed to the kingdom of love,
Where the soul wears its mantle of glory.

We parted in silence,—our cheeks were wet
With the tears that were past controlling;
We vowed we would never, no, never forget,
And those vows at the time were consoling;
But those lips that echoed the sounds of mine
Are as cold as that lonely river;
And that eye, that beautiful spirit’s shrine,
Has shrouded its fires forever.

And now on the midnight sky I look,
And my heart grows full of weeping;
Each star is to me a sealèd book,
Some tale of that loved one keeping.
We parted in silence,—we parted in tears,
On the banks of that lonely river:
But the odor and bloom of those bygone years
Shall hang o’er its waters forever.

Heart-Touching Poems About Ex Girlfriends

an attractive woman wearing a beautiful red dress in the blooming garden

Love is a journey filled with beautiful moments, but sometimes it takes a different path, leaving behind memories and emotions that linger in our hearts.

In this collection of heart-touching poems, we explore the bittersweet realm of past relationships, capturing the essence of love and longing through words that touch our soul.

“She Sung Of Love” by Thomas Moore

She sung of Love, while o’er her lyre
The rosy rays of evening fell,
As if to feed with their soft fire
The soul within that trembling shell.
The same rich light hung o’er her cheek,
And played around those lips that sung
And spoke, as flowers would sing and speak,
If Love could lend their leaves a tongue.

But soon the West no longer burned,
Each rosy ray from heaven withdrew;
And, when to gaze again I turned,
The minstrel’s form seemed fading too.
As if her light and heaven’s were one,
The glory all had left that frame;
And from her glimmering lips the tone,
As from a parting spirit, came.

Who ever loved, but had the thought
That he and all he loved must part?
Filled with this fear, I flew and caught
The fading image to my heart–
And cried, “Oh Love! is this thy doom?
“Oh light of youth’s resplendent day!
“Must ye then lose your golden bloom,
“And thus, like sunshine, die away?”

“Song” by Aquila

Could we old griefs forget,
And trials we have met,
And eyes with weeping wet,
For the bitter woe
Of Love let go;
Could we take back again
The days we’ve lived in vain,
Would life have less of pain?
I do not know!

Can morning dew-drops sweet,
Or the day’s noontide heat,
‘Tell us what we may meet
In the sunset glow?
Ah! no! no! no!
We cannot outrun fate,
We must live on and wait,
Till at the ivory gate
We knock and know!

“Joys Of An Ecstasy Past” by Emily Thornton Charles

The joys of an ecstasy past,
The bliss of a loving caress,
While life in the bosom doth last,
In the heart ever lingers to bless.

A mem’ry without a regret
Proves real a midsummer’s dream.
Blissful moments we never forget
As we drift on time’s hastening stream.

Nature’s path leads up to the Lord;
Her pleasures are free from alloy.
Nature’s duties will bring their reward;
Nature’s book teach us how to enjoy.

gorgeous elegant lady dressed in orange strolling by the river in summer

“Years Ago” by George Pope Morris

Near the banks of that lone river,
Where the water-lilies grow,
Breathed the fairest flower that ever
Bloomed and faded years ago.

Now we met and loved and parted,
None on earth can ever know—
Nor how pure and gentle-hearted
Beamed the mourned one years ago!

Like the stream with lilies laden,
Will life’s future current flow,
Till in heaven I meet the maiden
Fondly cherished years ago.

Hearts that love like mine forget not;
They’re the same in weal or wo;
And that star of memory set not
In the grave of years ago.

“The Forget-Me-Not” by Emily Thornton Charles

In future years, in many a weary hour,
When I may dwell in some far distant spot,
My heart would then, e’en like this little flower
In its dear name, bid thee “forget me not.”

“You Wrong Me, Kate” by Wilfred S. Skeats

You wrong me, Kate, you wrong me
In harbouring the thought
That he who loves so fondly
Would injure thee in aught.
The pang that I must feel, Kate,
When dark suspicion lurks
Within thy breast, is real, Kate,
And mischievously works.

The tone with doubt inflected,
The calm, reproachful look,
The name of one suspected
In light arraignment spoke;
These, these enforce the heart-ache,
And instigate the strife,
And these, in chiefest part, take
The joy from out my life.

For bright within my soul, dear,
On Love’s unsullied throne,
With absolute control, dear,
Thou reignest Queen alone.
With reverence I chose thee,
With pride I placed thee there;
And none did e’er oppose thee,
And none shall ever dare.

All womankind shall merit
A just regard from me,
And all the sex inherit
A claim to courtesy;
But none has ever claimed me
Her vassal, slave or thrall,
For Kate, my heart has named thee
The sceptred Queen of all.

Then trust me, Kate, oh! trust me,
In absence, far or near,
And judge me not unjustly,
But hold my promise dear.
Will not my word content thee?
I cannot give thee more:
Oh Kate, my Kate, repent thee,
And love me as before!

a tall, slender woman with long blond hair walks in the woods in a burgundy dress

“Maid Of Athens, Ere We Part?” by Lord Byron

Maid of Athens, ere we part,
Give, O, give me back my heart!
Or, since that has left my breast,
Keep it now, and take the rest!
Hear my vow before I go,

By those tresses unconfined,
Wooed by each Ægean wind;
By those lids whose jetty fringe
Kiss thy soft cheeks’ blooming tinge;
By those wild eyes like the roe,

By that lip I long to taste;
By that zone-encircled waist;
By all the token-flowers that tell
What words can never speak so well;
By love’s alternate joy and woe,

Maid of Athens! I am gone.
Think of me, sweet! when alone.
Though I fly to Istambol,
Athens holds my heart and soul:
Can I cease to love thee? No!

“To Autumn” by Aquila

Ah! linger with me yet a little while,
For I have loved thy beauty day by day.
My yearning heart would have thee ever stay”;
For like a blushing maid thou dost beguile
My fancy, with thy rosy-dimpled smile.
Oh! that I now might clasp thy hands, and say,
“I love thee, thou must never go away!”.
But thou art going, and my words are vain.

Go, autumn, go! thy glories are but laid
To rest awhile; they will return again!
But never more beneath thy happy shade
Shall Love return to me; for bitter pain
Hath killed the hopes I cherished: they depart, —
And winter’s chilly breath benumbs my heart.

“Sence You Went Away” by James Weldon Johnson

Seems lak to me de stars don’t shine so bright,
Seems lak to me de sun done loss his light,
Seems lak to me der’s nothin’ goin’ right,
Sence you went away.

Seems lak to me de sky ain’t half so blue,
Seems lak to me dat ev’ything wants you,
Seems lak to me I don’t know what to do,
Sence you went away.

Seems lak to me dat ev’ything is wrong,
Seems lak to me de day’s jes twice es long,
Seems lak to me de bird’s forgot his song,
Sence you went away.

Seems lak to me I jes can’t he’p but sigh,
Seems lak to me ma th’oat keeps gittin’ dry,
Seems lak to me a tear stays in ma eye,
Sence you went away.

a beautiful woman with a floral head wreath in a peach dress enjoying the mountain landscape

“Years Ago” by Victor James Daley

The old dead flowers of bygone summers,
The old sweet songs that are no more sung,
The rose-red dawns that were welcome comers
When you and I and the world were young,
Are lost, O love, to the light for ever,
And seen no more of the moon or sun,
For seas divide, and the seasons sever,
And twain are we that of old were one.

O fair lost love, when the ship went sailing
Across the seas in the years agone,
And seaward-set were the eyes unquailing,
And landward-looking the faces wan,

My heart went back as a dove goes homeward
With wings aweary to seek its nest,
While fierce sea-eagles are flying foamward
And storm-winds whiten the surge’s crest;

And far inland for a farewell pardon
Flew on and on, while the ship went South—
The rose was red in the red-rose garden,
And red the rose of your laughing mouth.

But no word came on the wind in token
Of love that lasts till the end; and so
My heart returned to me bruised and broken,
From you, my love, of the long ago.

The green fields seemed in the distance growing
To silken squares on a weaver’s loom,
As oversea came the land-wind blowing
The faint sweet scent of the clover bloom.

A rarer odour to me it carried,
In subtle delicate way to tell
Of you, ere you and the world were married—
The lilac-odour you loved so well.

Again, I saw you beneath the blooms of
Those lilac-trees in the garden old.
Ah me! each tree is a mark for tombs of
Dead dreams and memories still and cold.

And Death comes there with his breath scent-laden,
And gathering gently the blossoms shed
(In guise of Autumn, the brown-browed maiden)
With your and my dead buries his dead.

O, fairer far than the fair ideal
Of him who imaged the foam-born Queen
In foam-white marble—a dream made real—
To me were you in those years, I ween.

Your lips were redder than night-shade berries
That burn in borders of hedgerowed lanes,
And sweeter far than the sweet wild cherries
The June sun flushes with crimson stains.

And gray your eyes as a gray dove’s wings were—
A gray soft-shadowing deeps profound,
Where thoughts that reached to the heart of things were,
And love lay dreaming though seeming drowned.

Twin-tulip-breasted like her the tread of
Whose feet made music in Paphos fair,
The world to me was not worth a thread of
Your brown, ambrosial, braided hair.

Mayhap you loved me at one time truly,
And I was jealous, and you were proud;
But mine the love of the king in Thule,
Till death; and yours—sleeps well in shroud.

So night came down like a sombre raven,
And southward ever the ship was borne,
Till glad green fields and lessening haven
Grew faint and faded like ghosts at morn.

As fields of Heaven eternal blooming,
Those flowerful fields of my mother-land
In midnight visions are still perfuming
All wild waste places and seas of sand.

And still in seasons of storm and thunder,
In strange lands under your land and mine,
And though our ways have been wide asunder,
In calm and tempest and shade and shine

Your face I see as I saw the last time—
As one borne space-ward on wings of light,
With eyes turned back to a sight of past time,
Beholds for ever that self-same sight.

But scorn has died on your lips, and through you
Shines out star-bright an immortal grace,
As though God then to His heaven drew you,
And sent an angel to take your place.

I plucked one rose from the tree you cherished,
My heart’s blood ebbing has kept it red,
And all my hopes with its scent have perished;
Why mourn them now—are the dead not dead?

And yet, God knows, as this rose I kiss, you
May feel the kisses across the sea;
And soul to soul for the larger issue
Your soul may stand with the soul of me,

Unknown to you—for the strings of Being
Are not so easily snapped or torn;
And we may journey with eyes unseeing
On paths that meet in the years unborn.

Farewell, dear heart. Warm sighs may sever
Ripe lips of love like a rose-leaf curled,
But you remain unto me for ever
The one fair woman in all the world.

“As Slow Our Ship” by Thomas Moore

As slow our ship her foamy track
Against the wind was cleaving,
Her trembling pennant still looked back
To that dear isle ’t was leaving.
So loath we part from all we love,
From all the links that bind us;
So turn our hearts, as on we rove,
To those we ’ve left behind us!

When, round the bowl, of vanished years
We talk with joyous seeming,—
With smiles that might as well be tears,
So faint, so sad their beaming;
While memory brings us back again
Each early tie that twined us,
O, sweet ’s the cup that circles then
To those we ’ve left behind us!

And when, in other climes, we meet
Some isle or vale enchanting,
Where all looks flowery, wild, and sweet,
And naught but love is wanting;
We think how great had been our bliss
If Heaven had but assigned us
To live and die in scenes like this,
With some we ’ve left behind us!

As travellers oft look back at eve
When eastward darkly going,
To gaze upon that light they leave
Still faint behind them glowing,—
So, when the close of pleasure’s day
To gloom hath near consigned us,
We turn to catch one fading ray
Of joy that ’s left behind us.