Famous Love Poems in English
Absence
by: Amy Lowell (1874-1925)
My cup is empty to-night,
Cold and dry are its sides,
Chilled by the wind from the open window.
Empty and void, it sparkles white in the moonlight.
The room is filled with the strange scent
Of wistaria blossoms.
They sway in the moon’s radiance
And tap against the wall.
But the cup of my heart is still,
And cold, and empty.
When you come, it brims
Red and trembling with blood,
Heart’s blood for your drinking;
To fill your mouth with love
And the bitter-sweet taste of a soul.
Aftermath
Last night, we fled, close locked, in sweet embrace,
Across the empty kingdom men call “Space.”
So deep the solitude, I could but feel
Your fear within. It made my senses reel.
I clasped you closer, with encircling arm,
As though to shield you from impending harm
And like a zephyr, from the sun-kissed South,
I felt the pressure of your trembling mouth.
A flame shot through my soul, in that first kiss.
I was on fire. I knew no thought but this;
I loved you–mind, heart, body, brain and soul.
And had–since centuries first began to roll.
And when your melting mouth had answered mine,
Within your eyes, a new-born light divine
Proclaimed the wondrous miracle was done,
And our two souls had melted into one.
Oh! idiot Earth, to waste the dew of youth,
Along the borderlands of perfect truth!
Oh! dolts and dullards, with your feet of clay!
To shun the glorious light of perfect day!
In that first kiss, the past was all laid bare.
The future years, transparent as the air
In swift procession, swept across our path
And left me drunk, with love’s sweet aftermath.
When First I Loved
When first I loved, I gave my very soul
Utterly unreserved to Love’s control,
But Love deceived me, wrenched my youth away
And made the gold of life for ever Grey.
Long I lived lonely, yet I tried in vain
With any other Joy to stifle pain;
There is no other joy, I learned to know,
And so returned to Love, as long ago.
Yet I, this little while ere I go hence,
Love very lightly now, in self-defense.
Beauty
by: Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892)
Oh, Beauty, passing beauty! sweetest Sweet!
How canst thou let me waste my youth in sighs;
I only ask to sit beside thy feet.
Thou knowest I dare not look into thine eyes,
Might I but kiss thy hand! I dare not fold
My arms about thee—scarcely dare to speak.
And nothing seems to me so wild and bold,
As with one kiss to touch thy blessed cheek.
Methinks if I should kiss thee, no control
Within the thrilling brain could keep afloat
The subtle spirit. Even while I spoke,
The bare word KISS hath made my inner soul
To tremble like a lutestring, ere the note
Hath melted in the silence that it broke.
