Love lost
She was so cruel and capricious making me bury our love
Not in a grave yard under a sluttish tomb stone
But beneath a tall oak tree of a forest dark, wide and alone
Where none can come across or see from above
There will be no memorial days or sad hours
And I shall never visit the tree or put flowers
Yet the mouth I loved so much to kiss and to treat
Was none like so daring and bittersweet
I shall never go to the under tree love grave
For the woods are hostile, dark and cold
My time I shall for new love save
New love, new joy, constrain the rebel heart, forget the old
All day long I shall stay in the sun
Where the wide winds blow and flowers bloom
But oh, I shall cry at night for my sorrow is still undone
When none will know my time of agony and gloom
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Buried Love
I have come to bury Love
Beneath a tree,
In the forest tall and black
Where none can see.
I shall put no flowers at his head,
Nor stone at his feet,
For the mouth I loved so much
Was bittersweet.
I shall go no more to his grave,
For the woods are cold.
I shall gather as much of joy
As my hands can hold.
I shall stay all day in the sun
Where the wide winds blow, --
But oh, I shall cry at night
When none will know.
poem by Sara Teasdale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Past love
Is it you I keep thinking of, dreaming of still?
Should I feel like I do; shall I do like I feel?
I come to realize that I do miss your love and sooth
While I am not missing your harsh manners and capricious reproof
We ran our love; the golden largess of our praise
Till it was gone,
So it came; so it fell to the flower of cankered mal
It would not let it be as it was; sieged in fatal
It is not a word spoken or a gesture token,
Few words are said; silence is pure innocent guide
Nor even a look piercing of the sharp eyes
Nor a bend or a nod of the head,
But only a calm hush overwhelming the heart
That has too much to contemplate and to keep,
Only memories waking, running through the unsettled mind
That sleeps so light a sleep; if rests such a short.
There is no magic between us any more,
We meet; we behave; we react as other people do,
Your presence works no miracle for me
Does mine play any perfumed reminiscence to you?
Nothing will be changed now
After so many years all unshaken stand;
Like sluttish ware out tomb stones in grave yard
Life has not broken it with parting or panting tears;
Death will not alter it either,
My heart against you will never rebel;
My feelings in my heart do live on
Long after love past; they are in all my songs
When I am perished and gone.
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Let Me Wake Up Young
Let me wake up young at early dawn again
And welcome the showers of spring first rain
Let me love and peer up at the morning sun
With half shut eyes and comfortable fresh cheek
Let me live a sweet life tale full often to seek
Through meadows and pathless woods where rivers fall and run
Let me love again my brightest beautiful one
Of heaven and divine let me slowly speak
These love tunes to the night and the starlight meek
Or the moon, if that her hunting be begun
Let me know, let me relive these delights and be prone
To moralize upon a smile and a tear
And find at once a region in a world of my own
A meadow, a bower for my spirit where it will steer
To alleys of forest gloom where pine tree dropp their cone
Where foxes hide, robins chirp and leaves are fallen sere
Let me wake up in strength and vigor hope
Worship the morning, the mystic night, the light the shade and lush lea on slope
Let me glance again fresh on wide plains, fair foliage trees, and at sprouting flowers
Call on birds over clear streams, smooth calm lakes, and long stretched bowers
Let me lost in the happiness of pathless woods with tall towers
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You turned from me
Remember me as I was back then
As a precious memory of comfort in time of agony and pain
You have turned from me; but I always see
The beautiful maid laughing by a flowering spring tree
With the slaying eyes that made the air around so bright
Under shaking, flickering stars of warm hazy summer night
Hands were touching hands
Love grew slowly in such timid shy trend
You have turned from me; but I always remember
The bursting laugh against the night dew of early November
That one careless night of youth and laugh
While outside the spangled reeds in the silver moon did bath
For me, that night is the only night I have
Such a precious jewel against hard times in my heart I save
And how about you? in shine or in sorrow
How far did that splendid night in your heart grow?
You have turned from me time passes for long
The years were harsh leaving me forlorn without a song
I dare you never will see
What time and years have done to me
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Savage Time
Savage cruel Time that in your claws we deposit our trust
And youth, and our joy, and our all, whole we have and hope
And what we are paid back by your deceitful trade? earth and dust
In that dark eternal final state of grave with no upward slope
You take us, pluck us from the world; before we mature our ways
Shut up, closed and wrap in shroud the story of our undone days
Ah, from this earth, this grave this dust none of us revive or last
We are gone abandoned by all around; left with no trust
Daily we count the clock that measures you Time
And we watch bereft of a brave day sinking into hideous night
Our violet timid and shy yields to you its prime
as our heads all silvered over with white
And nothing against your scythe can make defense still
Unless we breed our beauties forth to escape your eternal skill
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The winds
From the meadows her walks have left a balm so sweet
That whenever summer wind wilts and sighs
It sets the jewel print of her lovely feet
In violet blue hue as her slaying eyes
To the woody hollows in which we hide and meet
And the heavenly valleys of daunting Paradise
A slender bird in foliage high, his wings would not shake
One long white bloom of a tall sturdy tree
The white bloom reed fell bending into the fresh lake
As the pimpernels dozed in the summer sun on the lea
But the rose was all night advocating her sake
Knowing my love promise to me
With the lilies they were all night awake
wondering what my love acts and takes will prove to be
Four winds blowing through the bright sky,
My heart is heavy with forlorn love
You have seen poor me under the burden of love I die,
No remedy from the mountains around or the heaven above
I asked the winds: Tell me then what I shall do
That my maiden love may be honest, virtue and true.
Shall I be stern with her to the haughty
Or shall kisses and sweet talks will sway the maid so naughty
Oh, sighed the spring wind from out the South,
'Lay a kiss upon her voluptuous mouth, '
And the winter grumpy wind from out the West without mercy or taste,
'Wound the heart within the lovely valley of her breast, '
A prompt protest came from the summer wind from out the East,
'On the contrary! Send her a banquet of a lavish feast, '
With disdain and mockery breaths the autumn wind from out the North,
Exclaimed: 'In the tempest winds thrust her forth;
Shall I be cruel and harsh as she
Then her love will pacify and relent to be kind to me
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Two beneath a shady tree
They were two beneath a shady tree cover
An old oak tree with blistered trunk and bark failing over
Like the hand of an old man with frail eyes
Yet leaves and fresh sprouts from its boughs shot to the skies
An old sturdy oak tree under summer sun
In mid of golden wheat clustered by the wind run
The waves of the wheat heads combed by gale and breeze
As the two set and made themselves at calm ease
They set and watched the golden field swaying in dance
The broken roar and the dim din of a remote city at horizon glance
She was beautiful and shy like a violet by a mossy wall stone
She set by him hidden and through his eyes she was only his own
They set beneath the tree, their life yet untrodden path
They spoke the first verses of love with joy and laugh
What was to come they knew not; merely the glory of that hour to bear
since they were innocent and pure; the masters of the days that were
They gathered roses from the field while they may
Unaware of old time that was still to carry them flying
A world so harsh where love grows and fleets away
They fell to play losing no time in grieving and sighing
And so they sat beneath an old oak before the sun in dusky skies
veiled his fair locks of child hair while he did spy
The unclouded luster that dwelled in her slaying eyes
Her bashful beauties once descried
The vanquished flowers around lost their pride
And in their vermilion buds their blushing they did hide
Losing their balmy fresh summer smell
They would never admit or tell
How much her sweets by far their own did excel.
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Ah a happy lover once was I
Ah a happy lover once was I who had come
To look on her the one I loved so well
She who lightened and rang my gateway bell
Then to learn her gone so far from my heart home
Her departure saddened and dimmed all magic light
Happy time dies off at once from bower and hall
And all places are dark, dark in whole and all
The heart chambers are empty of any delight
I reminisced pleasant memories of a familiar spot
In which we two were wont to meet
Under a tree in an open field, in a chamber down lyric street
Foe all in dark now where you are not
Yet as I walk other streets wandering there
During those heart break deserted walks, I find
A flower beaten down with rain and wind
Which once they fostered up with gentle care
So she left me torn and tattered in deep regret
My forsaken heart my devastated soul
And this shaken flower like our love used to stand tall
Which she used to care for fades not yet
Oh poor love, Oh wilted flower hardly to rejoice the heart nor to please the eye
The force that nourished you is now your own demise and final tomb
Where is the hope that it can ever once again bloom
If dying, let it vanquish in the place where I myself die
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Imprisoned by my own heart' s gate
Imprisoned by my own heart' s gate
If I could only weave the route of my escape
My mind is stunned, all the paths are blocked
How can I break love's heavy locks
Submit myself to the sweet rapture of love
And face the cruel torture of loath
I went to sleep last night so late
When all the flowers had long ago closed their heads
My eyes were left to the dark to hesitate
When my heart to contend with turmoil so great
So strong is the appetite
For being loved, so definite
That though we know it profitless
we never learn to forfeit it in effortless
Does love need love in return
Yet we seek that reciprocity
And cannot help but to yearn for it
If transgression, I tell you of it
And if my blame, I shall avow it
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Come To The Greenwood Tree
Come to the greenwood tree,
Come where the dark woods be,
Dearest, O come with me!
Let us rove—O my love—O my love!
Come—'tis the moonlight hour,
Dew is on leaf and flower,
Come to the linden bower,—
Let us rove—O my love—O my love!
Dark is the wood, and wide
Dangers, they say, betide;
But, at my Albert's side,
Nought I fear, O my love—O my love!
Welcome the greenwood tree,
Welcome the forest free,
Dearest, with thee, with thee,
Nought I fear, O my love—O my love!
poem by William Makepeace Thackeray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My heart is heavy with fruits of love
My heart is heavy with fruits of love
Like clusters of ripe pomegranate fruit bearing down
The canopy branches of the tree
But I can never give you one from above
It is waxed and sweetened by the full sun as jewels crown
The fruits of my love do not belong to me; they are not free
Yet in the evening, at dusk twilight, I dare entreat you to hide low
When bats chase moths encircling wandering in lights glow
Under the crimson dusk skies’ pall
A fruit from the tree may slip and fall
And when in the gray hour it drops as lust’s prey
Would you take it? Hence no one will ever know or say
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Have you ever been enslaved by love?
Have you ever been enslaved by love, that you are totally abendant
And merely tend upon the hours and times of your love’s desire
You have shrunk with no personal pursues no precious time on your own to spend
No interest, nor service of any kind, till your love list requires
Dare you not to question or to chide the endless idle hour
While your love counts the time and watches the clock for you
Think you not the bitterness of waiting the love’s absence sour
When your love vanishes, biding you unexpected adieu
Dare you contend to be consumed with your jealous thought
Where your sovereign may be and whose affair he suppose
But like an obsequious slave you stay and think that you aught
That your love in soaring Narcissism is happy making time with those
My dear, true, you have cultured a fool love at your own expense and will
By never questioning, by always thinking anything your love does has no ill
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There will come
There will come upon the earth, calm spring time
When soft rains fall and raise the adores of wet ground
And flowers leap and bloom into their prime
As the swallows circle and bounce in vast meadows, shimmering sound
And no one will know of my time under the sun
And no one will reflect or contemplate of my days, not one
Not even one would mind, neither happy bird on a bough tree
That I have perished; erased diminished with no memory utterly
Come red black Robins and wear your feathery fire,
Whistling your whims on a low summer wind stirring fence-wire
And fat oily frogs in a garden pool, sing your rhythm all night
And tree heavy with late season foliage play the wind that turn you white
The world will go on as we do when an acquaintance dies
We hurry to burry and move as if it never concerns our fates; blinding our eyes
Oh that first Spring after death, herself when she wakes at dawn
Minding her course would scarcely notice that we were gone.
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The Alder Tree
Alder tree, O alder tree,
Over his grave reclining;
I've braided a wreath of the fairest flowers
That ever were fed by the spring-time showers.
Or nursed by the summer shining.
Short, but lovely, their lives have been,
Like his in the damp sod sleeping,
And I strew them now on the hillock green,
Where a mournful watch I'm keeping.
Alder tree! O alder tree!
Is it a voice of sorrow
That sighs 'mong thy leaves in the silent night,
When the radiant hue of the moonshine bright
Announceth a pleasant morrow?
'Tis a voice of wailing, O alder tree,
'Tis the evening breeze that weepeth,
'Tis the nightingale singing a song like me,
O'er the grave where my loved one sleepeth!
poem by Charles Mackay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forever Together
There it stands.
That fateful tree.
The tree out in the field,
the one from when I was a child.
The one where I spent endless hours doing nothing.
The tree that I did homework at.
This tree holds so many memories.
Enough to fill it from the top to bottom.
Happy memories, sad memories, angry moments,
All the good times and all the bad.
This is the tree of love.
Where I had my first kiss.
Three times...
This is the tree where I was born.
This is the tree that I will be buried under.
I love this tree.
It loves me.
We know each other so well.
Our hearts are one.
They have been for quite some time,
but Here I come.
Wait no longer lone tree.
I will be with you forever now.
It's been awhile hasn't it?
The police took their sweet time didn't they?
That isn't a factor now.
We are in the process of being united.
It won't be long now.
Forever together.
It won't be long.
Forever.
Forever...
poem by Zac Beemer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A woman pray
God, make me this thing that is rare and uncommon
That all my love's friends envy; be silent and attend
This wonderful reasonable ever beguiled and desired woman
As my love likes me: gorgeous witty yet obsequiously flattering friend
Please God bestow your ancient wisdom upon me
So I can understand and worship my man
Please enhance my soul with enduring love up to be insane
So that I have the wide heart and generosity to repeatedly forgive him
Oh God, wrapped me with passion for him, to be awed by rumor
Not grave through vain pride, nor too gay through world folly
Mingle inside me this equal mixture of none challenging good-humor
And soft sensible none engaging to absorb his bitter melancholy
Enslaved me God to love, to be totally helpless and abandoned
Leave me merely to tend upon the hours and times of my love's desire
Shrink me down with no personal pursues; no precious time on my own to spend
No interest, nor service of any kind, till and unless my love list requires
I will not dare him to question or to chide the endless idle hour
While my love counts the time and watches the clock for me
Think I not the bitterness of waiting the love's absence sour
When my love vanishes, biding me unexpected adieu to bare and be
Would I dare to be consumed with a jealous thought
Where my sovereign may be and whose affair he does suppose
But like an obsequious slave I stay and think that I aught
That my love in soaring Narcissism is happy making time with those
I should ignore; I should culture a fool love at my own expense and will
By never questioning, by always thinking anything my love does has no ill
So I was raised and to obey taught
The way of the world to which we all aught
Please endorse me with endless patience and deep account
So I can relate to his capricious swinging moods
Yet, God bereft me of any independent strength or power shrewd
Unless God, you do not mind me killing him for what has been surmount
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St. Valentine's Day
The South is a dream of flowers
With a jewel for sky and sea,
Rose-crowns for the dancing hours,
Gold fruits upon every tree;
But cold from the North The wind blows forth
That blows my love to me.
The stars in the South are gold
Like lamps between sky and sea;
The flowers that the forests hold.
Like stars between tree and tree;
But little and white Is the pale moon's light
That lights my love to me.
In the South the orange grove
Makes dusk by the dusky sea,
White palaces wrought for love
Gleam white between tree and tree,
But under bare boughs Is the little house
Warm-lit for my love and me.
poem by Edith Nesbit
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A lover laments
Do not leave me love
Please stay with me longer
Do not hastily go and rush to the world yonder
To the place in heaven and angles soaring above
Do not leave me love
Please be with me on my final path decline
Keep up your strength and trailing devoted sign
Be to my final end, be my enduring cherished dove
Do not leave me love
To roam in empty house of dusty suffocating rooms
With cracking doors, talking to your ghosts and shadows
Of happy past days before this time of age and doom
Do not abandon me love at night nor at dawn
Let me not attend your horrible ceremony
Oh heart break, Oh crushing agony
Just to hear the coils cracks when you are lowered down
Do not leave me love before my time comes
Talk to me of days of joy and courtship young under sunrise
when the look of fire in your eyes looms and rises
To amaze and to stun all beholders and ever some
Yet me think if I can kindly ask the lord
That he takes us both together, swiftly at once
So we together as always be as one
To avoid this dreadful ceremony we each cannot afford
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Arbor Amoris
I have a tree, a graft of Love,
That in my heart has taken root;
Sad are the buds and blooms thereof,
And bitter sorrow is its fruit;
Yet, since it was a tender shoot,
So greatly hath its shadow spread,
That underneath all joy is dead,
And all my pleasant days are flown,
Nor can I slay it, nor instead
Plant any tree, save this alone.
Ah, yet, for long and long enough
My tears were rain about its root,
And though the fruit be harsh thereof,
I scarcely looked for better fruit
Than this, that carefully I put
In garner, for the bitter bread
Whereon my weary life is fed:
Ah, better were the soil unsown
That bears such growths; but Love instead
Will plant no tree, but this alone.
Ah, would that this new spring, whereof
The leaves and flowers flush into shoot,
I might have succour and aid of Love,
To prune these branches at the root,
That long have borne such bitter fruit,
And graft a new bough, comforted
With happy blossoms white and red;
So pleasure should for pain atone,
Nor Love slay this tree, nor instead
Plant any tree, but this alone.
L'ENVOY.
Princess, by whom my hope is fed,
My heart thee prays in lowlihead
To prune the ill boughs overgrown,
Nor slay Love's tree, nor plant instead
Another tree, save this alone.
poem by François Villon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When I go
When my bells toll a melancholy saddening sound
Calling the people to lend my final end their honest prayers
In some gloominess, more dreadful condolence and chilling cares
More hearking to the sermon's horrid round
Surely the mind of every man in the mourning throng is closely bound
In some black spell; seeing that each other tears
Are shaded in self lament too, and gnawing fears
Sending a man to the grave is not a sight of glory crowned
When the bells drum my time; I should feel a damp
The same chill I felt when passing by a grave yard; did not I know
That all creatures are dying like an out burnt lamp
That all are now praying; sighing, wailing knowing their time to go
Into oblivion will come; and by their tombs fresh flowers will scent and will grow
For most humans without the glories of immortal lasting stamp
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