Have you ever struggled to find the right words to express how much he means to you?
These 10 heartfelt poems beautifully capture the love and admiration you feel for the man who holds your heart.
Let’s honor him through poetry with words that speak to the love you cherish.
Let’s get started!
My favorite poem about him
#1 “This Much and More” by Djuna Barnes
If my lover were a comet
Hung in air,
I would braid my leaping body
In his hair.
Yea, if they buried him ten leagues
Beneath the loam,
My fingers they would learn to dig
And I’d plunge home!
I love this poem the most for this collection because it shows the deep admiration and love a woman has for his man.
It also shows that the woman is ready to sacrifice and do everything she can for the man that even if they buried him, she will tire her fingers from digging and will even join him, even calling him her home.
9 more poems about him
#2 “Love Song” by Dorothy Parker
My own dear love, he is strong and bold
And he cares not what comes after.
His words ring sweet as a chime of gold,
And his eyes are lit with laughter.
He is jubilant as a flag unfurled—
Oh, a girl, she’d not forget him.
My own dear love, he is all my world,—
And I wish I’d never met him.
My love, he’s mad, and my love, he’s fleet,
And a wild young wood-thing bore him!
The ways are fair to his roaming feet,
And the skies are sunlit for him.
As sharply sweet to my heart he seems
As the fragrance of acacia.
My own dear love, he is all my dreams,—
And I wish he were in Asia.
My love runs by like a day in June,
And he makes no friends of sorrows.
He’ll tread his galloping rigadoon
In the pathway of the morrows.
He’ll live his days where the sunbeams start,
Nor could storm or wind uproot him.
My own dear love, he is all my heart,—
And I wish somebody’d shoot him.
#3 “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!
#4 “The Poet” by Ina Coolbrith
He walks with God upon the hills!
And sees, each morn, the world arise
New-bathed in light of paradise.
He hears the laughter of her rills,
Her melodies of many voices,
And greets her while his heart rejoices.
She, to his spirit undefiled,
Makes answer as a little child;
Unveiled before his eyes she stands,
And gives her secrets to his hands.
#5 “The Prince” by Josephine Dodge Daskam
My heart it was a cup of gold
That at his lip did long to lie,
But he hath drunk the red wine down,
And tossed the goblet by.
My heart it was a floating bird
That through the world did wander free,
But he hath locked it in a cage,
And lost the silver key.
My heart it was a white, white rose
That bloomed upon a broken bough,
He did but wear it for an hour,
And it is withered now.
#6 “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.
#7 “Song” by Phoebe Cary
I see him part the careless throng,
I catch his eager eye;
He hurries towards me where I wait, —
Beat high, my heart, beat high!
I feel the glow upon my cheek,
And all my pulses thrill;
He sees me, passes careless by; —
Be still, my heart, be still!
He takes another hand than mine,
It trembles for his sake;
I see his joy, I feel my doom; —
Break, O my heart-strings, break!
#8 “Union Square” by Sara Teasdale
With the man I love who loves me not,
I walked in the street-lamps’ flare;
We watched the world go home that night
In a flood through Union Square.
I leaned to catch the words he said
That were light as a snowflake falling;
Ah well that he never leaned to hear
The words my heart was calling.
And on we walked and on we walked
Past the fiery lights of the picture shows
Where the girls with thirsty eyes go by
On the errand each man knows.
And on we walked and on we walked,
At the door at last we said good-bye;
I knew by his smile he had not heard
My heart’s unuttered cry.
With the man I love who loves me not
I walked in the street-lamps’ flare
But oh, the girls who can ask for love
In the lights of Union Square.
#9 “I Waited Till The Twilight” by Charles Swain
I waited till the twilight,
And yet he did not come;
I strayed along the brookside,
And slowly wandered home;
When who should come behind me,
But him I would have chid;
He said he came to find me
Do you really think he did?
He said since last we parted,
He’d thought of naught so sweet,
As of this very moment,-
The moment we should meet.
He showed me where, half- shaded,
A cottage home lay hid ;
He said for me he’d made it.
Do you really think he did?
He said when first he saw me,
Life seemed at once divine,
Each night he dreamed of angels,
And every face was mine ;
Sometimes, a voice in sleeping,
Would all his hopes forbid ;
And then he’d waken weeping –
Do you really think he did?
#10 “The Maid’s Lament” by Walter Savage Landor
I loved him not; and yet now he is gone,
I feel I am alone.
I check’d him while he spoke; yet, could he speak,
Alas! I would not check.
For reasons not to love him once I sought,
And wearied all my thought
To vex myself and him; I now would give
My love, could he but live
Who lately lived for me, and when he found
‘Twas vain, in holy ground
He hid his face amid the shades of death.
I waste for him my breath
Who wasted his for me; but mine returns,
And this lorn bosom burns
With stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep,
And waking me to weep
Tears that had melted his soft heart: for years
Wept he as bitter tears.
‘Merciful God!’ such was his latest prayer,
‘These may she never share!’
Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold
Than daisies in the mould,
Where children spell, athwart the churchyard gate,
His name and life’s brief date.
Pray for him, gentle souls, whoe’er you be,
And, O, pray too for me!