Love Poems

She Weeps Over Rahoon, by James Joyce.

Rain on Rahoon falls softly, softly falling,
Where my dark lover lies.
Sad is his voice that calls me, sadly calling,
At grey moonrise.
 
Love, hear thou
How soft, how sad his voice is ever calling,
Ever unanswered, and the dark rain falling,
Then as now.
 
Dark to our hearts. O love, shall lie and cold
As his sad heart has lain
Under the moongrey nettles, the black mould.
And muttering rain.

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Read more from this blogger: Rahoon

Ebb, by Edna St. Vincent Millay.

I Know what my heart is like
    Since your love died: 
It is like a hollow ledge
Holding a little pool
    Left there by the tide, 
A little tepid pool,
Drying inward from the edge.

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Read more from this blogger: Poets' Corner - Edna St.Vincent Millay - Second April

The Golden Peacock.

The golden peacock flies away,
Where are you flying, pretty bird?
I fly across the sea,
Please ask my love to write a word,
To write a word to me!
I know your love, and I shall bring
A letter back, to say,
With a thousand kisses, that for spring
He plans the wedding day.

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Read more from this blogger: Re: The golden Peacock/Goldene Pave

The Bargain, by Sir Philip Sidney.

My true-love hath my heart and I have his,
By just exchange one for 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.

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Read more from this blogger: Love Poetry: My True Love Hath My Heart - Phillip Sidney

Apelles' Song, from Alexander and Campaspe by John Lyly.

Cupid and my Campaspe played
At cards for kisses,—Cupid paid;
He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows,
His mother's doves, and team of sparrows:
Loses them too ; then down he throws
The coral of his lip, the rose
Growing on's cheek (but none knows how);
With these the crystal of his brow,
And then the dimple of his chin:
All these did my Campaspe win.
At last he set her both his eyes;
She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
  O Love, has she done this to thee?
  What shall, alas !  become of me? 

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Read more from this blogger: John Lyly. Apelles' Song from "Alexander and Campaspe".

Yourself and Myself, "I'm in love with a pretty girl," an Irish love poem.

If you come at all come only at night
and walk quietly -- don't frighten me.
You'll find the key under the doorstep
and me by myself -- don't frighten me.

There's no pot in the way no stool or can
or rope of straw -- nothing at all.
The dog is quiet and won't say a word
-- it's no shame to him: I've trained him well.

My mammy's asleep and my daddy is coaxing
kissing her mouth and kissing her mouth.
Isn't she lucky! Have pity on me
lying here by myself in the feather bed.

Click through for original Gaelic version.

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Read more from this blogger: Irish Poems, prose, etc.