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They say, roses are red
And, violets are blue
But I say to you my dear
I will always be true.
Kate Summers
A love like ours cannot compare
It is a feeling hard to describe
Some people don't ever dare
Some people want to bribe.
But what we share together
Is beyond what I ever dreamed
It is a love that lasts forever
It is better then what it seemed.
Robert Rivers
When we fell in love
I wondered if it was true
My now years later
I would never trade you.
For what we found in each other
Others only dream of
You make each day of my life
Better than the rest.
Robert Rivers
I pray my love is shown to you
By all the little things I do.
I see your love for me
Each and every day you see.
I thank you for the person you are
You are my bright and shining star.
And as we age and share our life
May we find no strife.
Catherine Pulsifer
Cute Short Love Poems
Love always compromises
Love forgives and tells no lies
Love will make me do
All that makes you happy too.
Catherine Pulsifer
If I could write a love song
I would write about you.
It would state how my heart longs
For all you say and do.
Catherine Pulsifer
Love is many things
It is all the little things.
It is the kindness that you show
The willingness and helping hand
That never ever demands.
Your sense of humor
Is no rumor
You make me laugh
Especially when you imitate a giraffe.
And trying times we have been through
But you have always been true.
Thank you my dear
With you I have no fear.
I will love you forever
Through all life's endeavors!
Catherine Pulsifer
Precious is your love
Pure as a snow white dove
Together you and me will be
That I will surely guarantee.
Kate Summers
I use to dream what it would be like
To find someone with whom I could share
Someone who also liked to hike
Someone who likes the dare.
No here we are happy as can be
We fell in love and it is more than a dream.
There is no one else I would rather see
Crossing the creek on a beam.
It is more than hiking now you see
It is life together you and me.
Catherine Pulsifer
Romantic Love Poems
Is This Not Love
Poet: Susie M. Betts
To kiss that hands that smite,
To pray for them that persecute,
To hear the voice of blame,
And still be mute -
Is this not love?
To give for evil good,
To learn what sacrifice can teach,
To be the scoffer's sport
Nor strive to make retort
To angry speech -
Is this not love?
To face the harsh world's harms,
To brave its bitterness for years,
To be an unthanked slave,
And gain at last a grave
Unwet by tears -
Is this not love?
It is a splendid thing to think that the woman you really love will never grow old to you.
Through the wrinkles of time, through the mask of years, if you really love her,
you will always see the face you loved and won.
And a woman who really loves a man does not see that he grows old;
he is not decrepit to her; he does not tremble; he is not old;
she always sees the same gallant gentleman who won her hand and heart.
I like to think of it in that way; I like to think that love is eternal.
And to love in that way and then go down the hill of life together,
and as you go down, hear, perhaps, the laughter of grandchildren,
while the birds of joy and love sing once more in the leafless branches of the tree of age.
Robert G. Ingersoll
A Valentine, love poem
Poet: Eugene Field
Go, Cupid, and my sweetheart tell
I love her well.
Yes, though she tramples on my heart
And rends that bleeding thing apart;
And though she rolls a scornful eye
On doting me when I go by;
And though she scouts at everything
Go, Cupid, and my sweetheart tell
I love her well.
Yes, though she tramples on my heart
And rends that bleeding thing apart;
And though she rolls a scornful eye
On doting me when I go by;
And though she scouts at everything
As tribute unto her I bring -
Apple, banana, caramel -
Haste, Cupid, to my love and tell,
In spite of all, I love her well!
And further say I have a sled
Cushioned in blue and painted red!
The grocery man has promised I
Can "hitch" whenever he goes by -
Go, tell her that, and, furthermore,
Apprise my sweetheart that a score
Of other little girls implore
The boon of riding on that sled
Painted and hitched, as aforesaid; -
And tell her, Cupid, only she
Shall ride upon that sled with me!
Tell her this all, and further tell
I love her well.
To My Valentine
Poet: Unknown
My sweetheart is lovely,
a maiden so fair,
No wonder my thoughts
are ever with her.
In work or in pleasure,
in rain or in shine,
There's none in my heart
but my Valentine.
"We like someone because.
We love someone although."
Henri De Montherlant
The Beggar's Valentine
Poet: Vachel Lindsay
Kiss me and comfort my heart, maiden honest and fine.
I am the pilgrim boy, lame, but hunting the shrine;
Fleeing away from the sweets, seeking the dust and rain,
Sworn to the staff and road, scorning pleasure and pain;
Nevertheless my mouth would rest like a bird an hour
And find in your curls a nest and find in your breast a bower:
Nevertheless my eyes would lose themselves in your own,
Rivers that seek the sea, angels before the throne:
Kiss me and comfort my heart, for love can never be mine:
Passion, hunger and pain, these are the only wine
Of the pilgrim bound to the road. He would rob no man of his own.
Your heart is another's I know, your honor is his alone.
The feasts of a long drawn love, the feasts of a wedded life,
The harvests of patient years, and hearthstone and children and wife:
These are your lords I know. these can never be mine -
This is the price I pay for the foolish search for the shrine.
This is the price I pay ror the joy of my midnight prayers,
Kneeling beneath the moon with hills for my altar stairs;
This is the price I pay for the throb of the mystic wings,
When the dove of God comes down and beats round my heart and sings;
This is the price I pay for the light I shall some day see
At the ends of the infinite earth when truth shall come to me.
And what if my body die before I meet the truth?
The road is dear, more dear than love or life or youth.
The road, it is the road, mystical, endless, kind,
Mother of visions vast, mother of soul and mind;
Mother of all of me but the blood that cries for a mate -
That cries for a farewell kiss from the child of God at the gate.
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