Poetry of Love

Cupid and My Campaspe

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?

John Lyly

2 Replies

@Miller,

Don't you want to challenge the dog???

And, alas, my ass...

0 Replies

@Miller,

There is no heart that beats
That does not twist its fate
and makes a date with destiny
it hopes to never keep
There no heart the sleeps
so easlily into dreams
where it can quietly escape
the terrors it has seen

And for this all good hearts seek love
Why they skip beats
with each entrancing glance
why they wait hesitant upon the chance
To see a lover shone with glory
to touch again the face of God with bony hands
and stand with all great and reserved
with those who dare to love

No brave heart beats except for love
for this denies with mighty blows
the sting of death
and sings aloud once more for life
raging with other hearts as one
to deny to fate a moment's grace
and fills too full each moment up with life
to better face the facts without a care
till death should take us unaware

1 Reply

@Fido,

Fido wrote:

There is no heart that beats
That does not twist its fate
and makes a date with destiny
it hopes to never keep
There is no heart the sleeps
so easlily into dreams
where it can quietly escape
the terrors it has seen

And for this all good hearts seek love
Why they skip beats
with each entrancing glance
why they wait hesitant upon the chance
To see a lover shone with glory
to touch again the face of God with bony hands
and stand with all great and reserved
with those who dare to love

No brave heart beats except for love
for this denies with mighty blows
the sting of death
and sings aloud once more for life
raging with other hearts as one
to deny to fate a moment's grace
and fills too full each moment up with life
to better face the facts without a care
till death should take us unaware

0 Replies

She Was a Phantom of Deligh

She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;
Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;
A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.

I saw her upon a nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;
A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A Creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears and smiles.

And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A Being breathing thoughtful breath,
A Traveler between life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly planned,
To warm, to comfort, and command;
And yet a Spirit still, and bright,
With something of angelic light.

William Wordsworth

0 Replies

When You Are Old By W. B. Yeats

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Edit [Moderator]: Link removed

1 Reply

A Question Answered

What is it men in women do require?
The lineaments of Gratified Desire.
What is it women do in men requre?
The lineaments of Gratified Desire.

William Blake

1 Reply

@Miller,

What do women of men require
more than affection, attention, love and conversation
companionship, and worship, caring and forbearance
intelligence and patience, sharing and dancing
devotion, emotion, and lotion and motion???

What do men of women require
but sex and more sex and kinky sex for a start
and house work from early morning till dark
and food when hungry that's ready and waits
who turns pennies to dollars
and burger to steak
a room with a tv and a fridge full of beer
and if you want to go fishing a wife who don't care
who wont stay up talking till she's turning blue
who is horney when you are and gives it to you

So how can this vision of facts be true
What are boys and girls to do
Is this a game with every card wild???
How shall we be reconciled???
Only if boys pretend to be girls
and girls pretend to
and the slobs stay with slobs
and the true stay with true...

1 Reply

@Schonfeld02,

Think of nothing but this day
Burn it up and pass away
Think of me as though a spider
as if the spider of my desire
Eat me up as the price of love
bite the hand, spare not the glove
kick me out and keep the cash
Never try to make it last
only losers get too old
and die of wrinkles and catching colds
Steal your life before its sold
Think of it as a metaphore
Think of your life as guts and gore
for the sawdust of the butcher's floor
he's got you for nothing and he thinks too much
That you give a breath of your life to love
When money and work he wants on your mind
but don't give him nothing, not an inch or a dime
Don't let him wring your sweat with the hands of time
Give life to love and the rest is mine
save nothing for later, but let it be
Burn me to ashes and set me free...

0 Replies

George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron. 1788–1824

We'll go no more a-roving

SO, we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath, 5
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon, 10
Yet we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon.

1 Reply

@Miller,

I'll never wrestle with your bra
like a criminal with his cuffs
I"ll never wiggle you out of your panties
or rise up to your touch
I'll never live in tomorrow
nor dream of the past
I will make you my present
and make this moment last

Let the morrow take
and break me on the rocks
I have had my time in heaven
and breathed your curly locks
I have lain sated and engorged with blood
I have tasted ever inch of you
and found that you were good
and I gave you my pride true

What matter is it What shall I save
what would I glean to keep another day
Each time is better each time is best
Each moment lives beyond the rest
I have have no bank account of dreams
No bags of memories, no lusts unclean-
sand grains in my hand is what you're like
my life so long as I hold tight

0 Replies

The first Kiss of Love

Away with your fictions of flimsy romance,
Those tissues of falsehood which folly has wove !
Give me the mild beam of the soul-breathing glance,
Or the rapture which dwells on the first kiss of love.

Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with phantasy glow,
Whose pastoral passions are made for the grove;
From what blest inspiration your sonnets would flow,
Could you ever have tasted the first kiss of love !

If Apollo should e'er his assistance refuse,
Or the Nine be disposed from your service to rove,
Invoke them no more, bid adieu to the muse,
And try the effect of the first kiss of love.

I hate you, ye cold compositions of art !
Though prudes may condemn me, and bigots reprove,
I court the effusions that spring from the heart,
Which throbs with delight to the first kiss of love.

Your shepherds, your flocks, those fantastical themes,
Perhaps may amuse, yet they never can move:
Arcadia displays but a region of dreams;
What are visions like these to the first kiss of love ?

Oh! cease to affirm that man, since his birth,
From Adam till now, has with wretchedness strove;
Some portion of paradise still is on earth,
And Eden revives in the first kiss of love.

When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past ---
For years fleet away with the wings of the dove ---
The dearest remembrance will still be the last,
Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love.

By
George Gordon Noel Byron

1 Reply

@Miller,

I wish I were away
because I love you
and you can play me
and make me pay
for all the pain I gave
and all the youth time
took away

But thirty years ago or five
I would have said hello good bye
I would have take my pleasure
from the joy of your skin
and thought it fine sin
and let you slip away

How time and a beautiful woman
changed the man
for now I try to grasp your meaning
and hesitate to understand
What is working in your logical mind
What secrets of relationship do you wish to define
But painful you are
and why should I care???

It is not life and time that has changed me
I don't care if you are always right
I don't care if your caring is infectious
That people every where fall for you
I have had your best and born your worst
I when you are unbearable
And I know that I should leave
only one thing binds me
Only one thing makes me tarry into tardy-
It's that I love you

It's that I can love
and whether I give it to you or to another
Whether I give it to you or forever hold
I can love, finally love, finally care, finally share
And some times it kills me
and may yet kill me for good and all
but ask me if I care
For all the years I had love so close
Without the courage to reach for it
Without the courage to risk life and sanity for love
But now I love
and nothing life can hand me can take love

Now I am human
Now I am a man
Now I can love
And when you act like you would destroy me
You certainly do hurt me
But my heart is pure
and now I care
and love of you is never far
And what does it matter
What does it matter
if I love you
and sometime I can't stand you
and your perfection
your perfect need of perfection
What if I feel your pain so cruelly
and think it only cruelty...

The denial of love is the denial of pain
The accepting of love is the accepting of pain
but pain is never easy
and I'm not easy
and you're not easy
and some time I wish I were away...

1 Reply

@Fido,

Fido wrote:

I wish I were away
because I love you
and you can play me
and make me pay
for all the pain I gave
and all the youth time
took away

But thirty years ago or five
I would have said hello good bye
I would have taken my pleasure
from the joy of your skin
and thought it fine sin
and let you slip away

How time and a beautiful woman
changed the man
for now I try to grasp your meaning
and hesitate to understand
What is working in your logical mind
What secrets of relationship do you wish to define
But painful you are
and why should I care???

It is not life and time that has changed me
I don't care if you are always right
I don't care if your caring is infectious
That people every where fall for you
I have had your best and born your worst
and when you are unbearable
And I know that I should leave
only one thing binds me
Only one thing makes me tarry into tardy-
and that is I love you

It's that I can love
and whether I give it to you or to another
Whether I give it to you or forever hold
I can love, finally love, finally care, finally share
And some times it kills me
and may yet kill me for good and all
but ask me if I care
For all the years I had love so close
Without the courage to reach for it
Without the courage to risk life and sanity for love-
But now I love
and nothing life can hand me can have my love

Now I am human
Now I am a man
Now I can love
And when you would destroy me
you certainly do hurt me
and hurt is a pain too mild to mind
Because my heart is pure
and now I care
and love of you is never far
And what does it matter
What does it matter
if I love you
and I just love you
and sometime I can't stand you
and your perfection
your perfect need of perfection
What if I feel your pain so cruelly
and think it only cruelty...

The denial of love is the denial of pain
The accepting of love is the accepting of pain
but pain is never easy
and I'm not easy
and you're not easy
and some time I wish I were away...

0 Replies

Quote:

My beloved is mine
And I am his
Who browses amon the lilies.
When the day blows gently
And the shadows flee,
Set out, my beloved,
Swift as a gazelle
Or a young stag,
For the hills of spices.

Song of Songs: 2:16

1 Reply

@Miller,

Wild Nights

Wild nights! Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile the winds
To a heart in port,
Done with the compass,
Done with the chart.

Rowing in Eden!
Ah! the sea!
Might I but moor
To-night in thee!

Emily Dickinson

0 Replies

@Fido,

This is the best, hard to find and worth the rest.

1 Reply

@Fido,

If there be love,
Will cupid come?

1 Reply

@Miller,

The Lily

The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
The humble sheep a threat'ning horn:
While the Lily white shall in love delight,
Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright

William Blake

1 Reply

@Miller,

No rose like love so stands apart with pride
and bristles thorns on every side
To guard with honor one intention
and braze the life with burning passion

Who once touched with love
could again spare love for another lover
and who having once given all
can find an all to give another lover it

And love said much and little meant
Is as a dusty rain like dewdrops spent
not quenching the roots of life entrenched
or blooming into enchantment

0 Replies

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