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You are now in the place where we share poems of well-known poets, often from the list “Best Poems” and “Best Poets”. Due to copyright we only present the poems of those poets who passed away some time ago and therefore, you will not find poems of contemporary poets here. We invite you to familiarise yourself with the poems about Love available here and we hope you will enjoy reading. The poems about Love found here you can easily add to the free ecards from our site, and then send ecards to friends. Best Love poems for you.
Twas Love -- not me
Twas Love -- not me --
Oh punish -- pray --
The Real one died for Thee --
Just Him -- not me --
Such Guilt -- to love Thee -- most!
Doom it beyond the Rest --
Forgive it -- last --
'Twas base as Jesus -- most!
Let Justice not mistake --
We Two -- looked so alike --
Which was the Guilty Sake --
'Twas Love's -- Now Strike!
Poems by Emily Dickinson
Twas Love -- not me
Twas Love -- not me --
Oh punish -- pray --
The Real one died for Thee --
Just Him -- not me --
Such Guilt -- to love Thee -- most!
Doom it beyond the Rest --
Forgive it -- last --
'Twas base as Jesus -- most!
Let Justice not mistake --
We Two -- looked so alike --
Which was the Guilty Sake --
'Twas Love's -- Now Strike!
Poems by Emily Dickinson
Two Lovers
Two lovers by a moss-grown spring:
They leaned soft cheeks together there,
Mingled the dark and sunny hair,
And heard the wooing thrushes sing.
O budding time!
O love's blest prime!
Two wedded from the portal stept:
The bells made happy carolings,
The air was soft as fanning wings,
White petals on the pathway slept.
O pure-eyed bride!
O tender pride!
Two faces o'er a cradle bent:
Two hands above the head were locked:
These pressed each other while they rocked,
Those watched a life that love had sent.
O solemn hour!
O hidden power!...
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Poems by George Eliot
Upon love
A crystal vial Cupid brought,
Which had a juice in it:
Of which who drank, he said, no thought
Of Love he should admit.
I, greedy of the prize, did drink,
And emptied soon the glass;
Which burnt me so, that I do think
The fire of hell it was.
Give me my earthen cups again,
The crystal I contemn,
Which, though enchased with pearls, contain
A deadly draught in them....
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Poems by Robert Herrick
Upon Love: By Way of Question and Answer
I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Like, and dislike ye.
I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Stroke ye, to strike ye.
I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Love will be-fool ye.
I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Heat ye, to cool ye.
I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Love, gifts will send ye.
I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Stock ye, to spend ye.
I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Love will fulfil ye.
I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Kiss ye, to kill ye.
Poems by Robert Herrick
Wasted Love
What shall be done for sorrow
With love whose race is run?
Where help is none to borrow,
What shall be done?
In vain his hands have spun
The web, or drawn the furrow:
No rest their toil hath won.
His task is all gone thorough,
And fruit thereof is none:
And who dare say to-morrow
What shall be done?
Poems by Algernon Charles Swinburne
What Is Love?
What is Love?
Is it a folly,
Is it mirth, or melancholy?
Joys above,
Are there many, or not any?
What is Love?
If you please,
A most sweet folly!
Full of mirth and melancholy:
Both of these!
In its sadness worth all gladness,
If you please!...
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Poems by Ernest Dowson
What shall I your true love tell?
What shall I your true love tell,
Earth forsaking maid?
What shall I your true love tell
When life's spectre's laid?
"Tell him that, our side the grave,
Maid may not believe
Life should be so sad to have,
That's so sad to leave!"
What shall I your true love tell
When I come to him?
What shall I your true love tell
Eyes growing dim?
"Tell him this, when you shall part
From a maiden pined;
That I see him with my heart,
Now my eyes are blind."...
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Poems by Francis Thompson
When Lovely Woman Stoops To Folly
When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away?
The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom, is—to die.
Poems by Oliver Goldsmith
Tags from Poems Love
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