A Valentine
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 groceryman 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.
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Oh Cupid, Oh My Love
Let the gentle breeze,
Flow through me
For I feel so much dizzy
Because it cupid who lives in me
Oh cupid, oh my love
Strong and desiring cupid
For you fame flies like dove
For the man who would not believe is so stupid
Draw your arrow from within
And struck through my heart
For you there is nothing like sin
Who wouldn't believe that except the madman in heart
For you cupid I praise and behold
Even when I wonder through land unsuveyed
My heart would never be sick from cold
And my friend would grow jealous everyday
No one knows you
Better than I do
For you reside within me
Oh cupid, oh my love
poem by Samuel Donkor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
If Cupid
Love can hit you
no matter where you are
whether it be at a funeral
or at a fun fair.
We may not know it at the time,
but cupid always shoots
his arrows straight and true.
You could be on a bus, plane or train
if cupid has his arrows set
there is nothing you can do.
You cannot duck or weave.
If cupid has his arrows set
love will come to you.
You maybe dancing at a ballroom,
if cupid spies a different partner
it is all over for you.
You will not see it coming
and will not even feel a thing
until you are the church
slipping on the wedding ring.
For if cupid has you in his sights,
there is nothing you can do.
25 February 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cupid's Mess!
Here comes the valentine day,
The season and time of the year,
When cupid is more busier than ever,
Shooting arrows to young as well as selected old hearts.
Cupid is known to play the game of love,
He with his symbolic bow and arrows,
Is known to ignite love among young hearts,
Creating love confusion is cupid’s favorite game.
His most successful moments,
When hearts become fully dipped in love,
And when their hearts act stronger than their mind,
And when the victims are not in their actual disposition.
So great was the joy of Cupid,
His sense of pride in his success,
To see the pain and excitement of people in love,
So Cupid was called by angels as 'Stupid Cupid'!
10/02/09
Valentine Day's special
poem by Winnie Angel
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Outbid
When Cupid held an auction sale,
I hastened to his mart,
For I had heard that he would sell
The blue-eyed Dora’s heart.
I brought a wealth of truest love,
The most that I could proffer,
Because, forsooth, of stocks or bonds
I had not one to offer.
When Cupid offered Dora’s heart,
I bid my whole heart’s love,
A love that reached from sea to sea
And to the sky above;
And When Sir Cupid called for more,
I bid my hands and life,
That should be hers for servitude
If she became my wife.
Then 'Going! going!' Cupid cried;
The silence was intense
Until old Goldbags said, 'I bid
My stocks and four per cents!'
Then Cupid cried, 'Fair Dora’s heart,
That ne’er was sold before!
Does anybody raise the bid?
Will any offer more?'
'If not—,' but Count Decrepit rose,
Infirm, decayed and slim;
'I hid my title!' and her heart
Was there knocked down to him.
Well! titles may be more than love!
I shall not rant nor rail;
For after all I much prefer
Some heart that’s not for sale!
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Another Imitation Of Anacreon
PRONE, on my couch I calmly slept
Against my wont. A little child
Awoke me as he gently crept
And beat my door. A tempest wild
Was raging-dark and cold the night.
"Have pity on my naked plight,"
He begged, "and ope thy door".--"Thy name?"
I asked admitting him.--"The same
"Anon I'll tell, but first must dry
"My weary limbs, then let me try
"My mois'ened bow."--Despite my fear
The hearth I lit, then drew me near
My guest, and chafed his fingers cold.
"Why fear?" I thought. "Let me be bold
"No Polyphemus he; what harm
"In such a child?--Then I'll be calm!"
The playful boy drew out a dart,
Shook his fair locks, and to my heart
His shaft he launch'd.--"Love is my name,"
He thankless cried, "I hither came
"To tame thee. In thine ardent pain
"Of Cupid think and young Climene."--
"Ah! now I know thee, little scamp,
"Ungrateful, cruel boy! Decamp!"
Cupid a saucy caper cut,
Skipped through the door, and as it shut,
"My bow," he taunting cried, "is sound,
"Thy heart, poor comrade, feels the wound."
poem by La Fontaine
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
O Cupid, Cupid; Get Your Bow!
Arming down along the stream,
Along the sparkling water,
And past the pool where lilies gleam,
There comes the squatter’s daughter.
Her eyes are kind; her lips are warm;
And like a flower her face is;
The habit shows her bonny form
As graceful as a Grace’s.
O I’ll be mad of love, I know;
My head she’ll surely addle;
O Cupid, Cupid; get your bow;
And shoot her from the saddle!
For, like a bird on breezes waft,
She quickly, quickly passes;
O Cupid, Cupid, draw your shaft;
And bring her to the grasses!
O she is worthy game for you;
And there is none to match her.
So, Cupid, send your arrow true;
And I’ll be there to catch her!
poem by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Desparate Times
Why can't you see where we are going
Why can't you see where we have been
You tell me the pain is still growing you tell me tell me who'll win
I feel for you you know what I'm saying
But I've got to do what's right in my head
I've got to ride ride rocket ride
Carry me quick to the one's who've cried
I'm a saint I'm a sinner but you decide
In desperate times
Sled sled rocket sled
Carry me quick to the one's who've bled
I'm a saint I'm a sinn er and these are desperate times
I would give my soul to carry your burden
I would give my soul cause I know you still grieve
Where will we go to hide from their blindness
Where will we go if we don't both believe
Bad blood rains down we've got to take cover
Cold blood rains down who can find any peace
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Intimacy
I hear people say, "I love my iPhone, "
Or, "I love drinking a Starbucks coffee."
Sometimes: "I love my Versace cologne, "
And also: "I love having this money."
I hear people say, "I love my Walmart, "
Or, "I love the drive-thru at Taco Bell."
"I love my TV. It's state of the art."
"I love the shoes that Nike has to sell."
I hear this: "I love American Idol, "
And, "I love a nice, cold Budweiser."
"I love medicines such as Demerol."
And, "I love my internet provider."
Yet, one thing I don't hear is, "I love you."
Saying that is too intimate to do.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Why was Cupid a Boy
Why was Cupid a Boy
And why a boy was he
He should have been a Girl
For ought that I can see
For he shoots with his bow
And the Girl shoots with her Eye
And they both are merry and glad
And laugh when we do cry
And to make Cupid a Boyt
Was the Cupid Girls mocking plant
For a boy cant interpret the thingt
Till he is become a man
And then hes so piercd with care
And wounded with arrowy smarts
That the whole business of his life
Is to pick out the heads of the darts
Twas the Greeks love of war
Turnd Love into a Boy
And Woman into a Statue of Stone
And away fled every joy
poem by William Blake from Songs and Ballads (1794)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
Love is Devine
Cupid O Cupid,
Hunting all day long;
Bring me a love,
Wise or stupid;
Beautiful or ugly;
Love covereth all.
My love is divine;
One of a kind,
It covereth
All the inperfections
In your life, in my life
Let us love forever
This love is devine.
poem by Efe Benjamin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Soldier, Maiden, and Flower
"Sweetheart, take this," a soldier said,
"And bid me brave good-by;
It may befall we ne'er shall wed,
But love can never die.
Be steadfast in thy troth to me,
And then, whate'er my lot,
'My soul to God, my heart to thee,'--
Sweetheart, forget me not!"
The maiden took the tiny flower
And nursed it with her tears:
Lo! he who left her in that hour
Came not in after years.
Unto a hero's death he rode
'Mid shower of fire and shot;
But in the maiden's heart abode
The flower, forget-me-not.
And when he came not with the rest
From out the years of blood,
Closely unto her widowed breast
She pressed a faded bud;
Oh, there is love and there is pain,
And there is peace, God wot,--
And these dear three do live again
In sweet forget-me-not.
'T is to an unmarked grave to-day
That I should love to go,--
Whether he wore the blue or gray,
What need that we should know?
"He loved a woman," let us say,
And on that sacred spot,
To woman's love, that lives for aye,
We'll strew forget-me-not.
1887.
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Astrophel And Stella-Sonnet LIV
Because I breathe not love to every one,
Nor do not use set colours for to wear,
Nor nourish special locks of vowed hair,
Nor give each speech a full point of a groan,
The courtly nymphs, acquainted with the moan
Of them who in their lips Love's standard bear,
"What, he!" say they of me, "now I dare swear
He cannot love. No, no, let him alone."—
And think so still, so Stella know my mind!
Profess indeed I do not Cupid's art;
But you, fair maids, at length this true shall find,
That his right badge is worn but in the heart.
Dumb swans, not chattering pies, do lovers prove:
They love indeed who quake to say they love.
poem by Philip Sidney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Helena: Love looks not with the eyes but with the mind.
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste —
Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste.
And therefore is Love said to be a child,
Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.
line from A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act I, Scene 1, script by William Shakespeare (1596)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
The Marriage of Edward Herbert Esquire, and Mrs. Elizabeth Herbert
CUPID one day ask'd his Mother,
When she meant that he shou'd Wed?
You're too Young, my Boy, she said:
Nor has Nature made another
Fit to match with Cupid's Bed.
Cupid then her Sight directed
To a lately Wedded Pair;
Where Himself the Match effected;
They as Youthful, they as Fair.
Having by Example carry'd
This first Point in the Dispute;
WORSELEY next he said's not Marry'd:
Her's with Cupid's Charms may suit
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My Fancy
I painted her a gushing thing,
With years about a score;
I little thought to find they were
A least a dozen more;
My fancy gave her eyes of blue,
A curly auburn head:
I came to find the blue a green,
The auburn turned to red.
She boxed my ears this morning,
They tingled very much;
I own that I could wish her
A somewhat lighter touch;
And if you ask me how
Her charms might be improved,
I would not have them added to,
But just a few removed!
She has the bear's ethereal grace,
The bland hyaena's laugh,
The footstep of the elephant,
The neck of a giraffe;
I love her still, believe me,
Though my heart its passion hides;
"She's all my fancy painted her,"
But oh! how much besides!
poem by Lewis Carroll
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Paint It
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore, I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they are painted black
With flowers and my love both never to come back
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away
Like a new born baby it just happens every day
I look inside myself and see my heart is black
I see my red door and its heading into black
Maybe then Ill fade away and not have to face the facts
Its not easy facing up when your whole world is black
I wanna see it painted painted, painted black, oh baby
I wanna see it painted painted, painted black, oh baby
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue
I could not foresee this thing happening to you
If I look hard enough into the setting sun
My love will laugh with me before the morning comes
I wanna see it painted, painted black, oh
Black as night, black as coal
I wanna see the sun blotted from the sky
Painted, painted, painted black oh baby
Painted painted, painted black
song performed by by Vanessa Carlton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Absolutely True
A thing call love, Absolutely true.
Can make one act silly, stupid.
Blame it on the Cupid.
Love does funny things to you.
If your sweet loves you back too,
Won't find you silly, stupid.
Nothing to do with Cupid.
Finds you Special, You being YOU.
By my sweetheart
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When birds are on the wing,
When bee and bud and babbling flood
Bespeak the birth of spring,
Come, sweetheart, be my sweetheart
And wear this posy-ring!
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
In the mellow golden glow
Of earth aflush with the gracious blush
Which the ripening fields foreshow;
Dear sweetheart, be my sweetheart,
As into the noon we go!
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When falls the bounteous year,
When fruit and wine of tree and vine
Give us their harvest cheer;
Oh, sweetheart, be my sweetheart,
For winter it draweth near.
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When the year is white and old,
When the fire of youth is spent, forsooth,
And the hand of age is cold;
Yet, sweetheart, be my sweetheart
Till the year of our love be told!
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Be My Sweetheart
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When birds are on the wing,
When bee and bud and babbling flood
Bespeak the birth of spring,
Come, sweetheart, be my sweetheart
And wear this posy-ring!
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
In the mellow golden glow
Of earth aflush with the gracious blush
Which the ripening fields foreshow;
Dear sweetheart, be my sweetheart,
As into the noon we go!
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When falls the bounteous year,
When fruit and wine of tree and vine
Give us their harvest cheer;
Oh, sweetheart, be my sweetheart,
For winter it draweth near.
Sweetheart, be my sweetheart
When the year is white and old,
When the fire of youth is spent, forsooth,
And the hand of age is cold;
Yet, sweetheart, be my sweetheart
Till the year of our love be told!
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Vanity
My tangoing seemed to delight her;
With me it was love at first sight.
I mentioned That I was a writer:
She asked me: "What is it you write?"
"Oh, only best-sellers," I told her.
Their titles? . . . She shook her blonde head;
The atmosphere seemed to grow colder:
Not one of my books had she read.
Oh, she was a beauty ensnaring,
And I was an author of note;
But little I saw she'd be caring
If never a novel I wrote.
Alas for the caprice of Cupid!
Alack for the phantom of Fame!
I thought her just homely and stupid:
She didn't know even my name.
I saw her a score of years after;
She gushed as I took off my hat;
But inwardly loud was my laughter,
For she was enormously fat.
Thank heaven I'd not made that error;
I saw Love drive off in a hearse;
But I too retreated in terror . . .
She started to quote me my verse.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!