Love In Their Little Veins Inspires
Love in their little veins inspires
their cheerful notes, their soft desires.
While heat makes buds and blossoms spring,
those pretty couples love and sing.
But winter puts out their desire,
and half the year they want love's fire.
poem by Thomas Shadwell
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Song (1912)
All suddenly the wind comes soft,
And Spring is here again;
And the hawthorn quickens with buds of green,
A nd my heart with buds of pain.
My heart all Winter lay so numb,
The earth so dead and frore,
That I never thought the Spring would come,
Or my heart wake any more.
But Winter's broken and earth has woken,
And the small birds cry again;
And the hawthorn hedge puts forth its buds,
And my heart puts forth its pain.
poem by Rupert Brooke (1912)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Gypsy Dance of love
We danced like gypsies in the heat of day,
and matched our colors bright and gay,
and music strings brought tears of love,
and bands of strolling players moved above,
our village tent.
Then when the music stops, and day
of love is done, and colors then are grey,
I will recall the gypsy dance and flame,
and call it back from lowered calming fire.
For we did dance and we did sing,
and we did love with every Spring,
as summer heat lit up the lovers field,
no winter snow will ice what we did feel.
I will recall the gypsy dance and fire,
and if your gone i will be sad and tire,
for in my heart and dreams you stay,
and we can dance the night away,
in dreams.
For true love never leaves the heart,
it is the guide to follow life's uneven chart,
though grey, I will recall the gypsy dance,
to fire my dreams,
the kiln of life,
now with an aged stance.
For we did dance and we did sing,
and we did love with every Spring,
as Summer heat lit up the lovers field,
no winter snow will ice what we did feel.
poem by Bernard Kennedy
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I love better to count time from spring to spring; it seems to me far more cheerful to reckon the year by blossoms than by blight.
quote by Donald G. Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Winter's Spring
The winter comes; I walk alone,
I want no bird to sing;
To those who keep their hearts their own
The winter is the spring.
No flowers to please--no bees to hum--
The coming spring's already come.
I never want the Christmas rose
To come before its time;
The seasons, each as God bestows,
Are simple and sublime.
I love to see the snowstorm hing;
'Tis but the winter garb of spring.
I never want the grass to bloom:
The snowstorm's best in white.
I love to see the tempest come
And love its piercing light.
The dazzled eyes that love to cling
O'er snow-white meadows sees the spring.
I love the snow, the crumpling snow
That hangs on everything,
It covers everything below
Like white dove's brooding wing,
A landscape to the aching sight,
A vast expanse of dazzling light.
It is the foliage of the woods
That winters bring--the dress,
White Easter of the year in bud,
That makes the winter Spring.
The frost and snow his posies bring,
Nature's white spurts of the spring.
poem by John Clare
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Winter Gone
Winter is closed for another year
Spring has sprung upon us
Was the winter kind to you
I miss winter now its gone laying by the fire
The charcoal wood the flickering of the flames
Now the warmer days are coming
New life is born in spring
New dreams are dreamed
New beginings sad endings
The days will be longer now the cold has left the ground
For three months now we will have spring shower and sunshine
I miss you winter and all your beauty
But you will be back this i am certain
After the spring comes the summer
The scorching heat the rolls of thunder
I love the summer storms the lightning the rain
But i miss you winter and all your beauty
So goodbye my beauty for another year
I will miss you until autumn appears
Springtime Love # 2
Cold winds of winter
have blown far away-
Springtime is now time
and love is today.
Springtime is our time
when mating birds sing-
Our time is love time
and love time is spring
Springtime-
Once in a lifetime
spring comes,
blossoms and then
springtime
moves on forever.
No second spring again.
Kisses and blossoms
and sweet birds of May,
they're to remember
when spring slips away.
poem by Daniel Artemas Harmon
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Frivolous Spring Love
love when new
puts a spring in step
a desire to sing
in hearts of lovers two
sublime love
elates consumes
lies destroys toys
two brittle hearts
spring bloom fades
in winter’s new tune
hard bites ice attrition
testifies past frozen lies
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Love's Growth
I SCARCE believe my love to be so pure
As I had thought it was,
Because it doth endure
Vicissitude, and season, as the grass;
Methinks I lied all winter, when I swore
My love was infinite, if spring make it more.
But if this medicine, love, which cures all sorrow
With more, not only be no quintessence,
But mix'd of all stuffs, vexing soul, or sense,
And of the sun his active vigour borrow,
Love’s not so pure, and abstract as they use
To say, which have no mistress but their Muse;
But as all else, being elemented too,
Love sometimes would contemplate, sometimes do.
And yet no greater, but more eminent,
Love by the spring is grown;
As in the firmament
Stars by the sun are not enlarged, but shown,
Gentle love deeds, as blossoms on a bough,
From love's awakened root do bud out now.
If, as in water stirr'd more circles be
Produced by one, love such additions take,
Those like so many spheres but one heaven make,
For they are all concentric unto thee;
And though each spring do add to love new heat,
As princes do in times of action get
New taxes, and remit them not in peace,
No winter shall abate this spring’s increase.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Life Is Lovely All the Year
When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day -
Life is love in merry May!
Spring is green - Fal lal la!
Summer's rose - Fal lal la!
It is sad when Summer goes,
Fal la!
Autumn's gold - Fal lal la!
Winter's grey - Fal lal la!
Winter still is far away -
Fal la!
Leaves in Autumn fade and fall;
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!
Fal la!
In the Spring-time seed is sown:
In the Summer grass is mown:
In the Autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep.
Spring is hope - Fal lal la!
Summer's joy - Fal lal la!
Spring and Summer never cloy,
Fal la!
Autumn, toil - Fal lal la!
Winter, rest - Fal lal la!
Winter, after all, is best -
Fal la!
Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, ay, and winter, too -
Every season has its cheer;
Life is lovely all the year!
Fal la!
poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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B: XV: Mission de Chef + Love the Love I Love + Holey Seat
Mission de Chef
Out of strong desires
I want to make a sauce
The sum of whose desires
Is greater than desires.
I will then subtract desires,
Label what is left as 'CHARM',
And find out if it works on love,
If it leads to love's demise,
Too weak without,
yet outlasting strong desires.
Love the Love I Love
You say you love me
You say you can't love her
I love her
Her love is what makes me
You don't love her
You don't love me
Love the love I love
And you will love me
Holey Seat
A fundament they share,
Poetry and Brown:
After one that takes some effort,
You sometimes put a quick one down.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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The First Spring Day
I wonder if the sap is stirring yet,
If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate,
If frozen snowdrops feel as yet the sun
And crocus fires are kindling one by one:
Sing, robin, sing;
I still am sore in doubt concerning Spring.
I wonder if the springtide of this year
Will bring another Spring both lost and dear;
If heart and spirit will find out their Spring,
Or if the world alone will bud and sing:
Sing, hope, to me;
Sweet notes, my hope, soft notes for memory.
The sap will surely quicken soon or late,
The tardiest bird will twitter to a mate;
So Spring must dawn again with warmth and bloom,
Or in this world, or in the world to come:
Sing, voice of Spring,
Till I too blossom and rejoice and sing.
poem by Christina Georgina Rossetti
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The Promise Of Spring
JUST a whisper, half-heard,
But our heart knows the word;
Caresses that seem
Like love's lips in a dream;
Yet we know she is here,
The desirèd, the dear,
The love of the year!
In the murmur of boughs,
In the softening of skies,
In the sun on the house,
In the daffodil's green
(Half an inch, half-unseen
Mid the mournful brown mould
Where the rotten leaf lies)
Her story is told.
O Spring, darling Spring,
O sweet days of blue weather
The thrushes shall sing,
Fields shall grow green again,
Daisies be seen again,
Hedges grow white;
Then down the lane,
Grown leafy again,
Shall go lovers together--
Lovers who see again
Sunshine and showers,
Perfume and flowers,
Dewy dear hours,
Dream and delight.
Warm shall nests be again,
Winter's behind us;
Springtime shall find us,
Taking our hands,
Lead us away from the cold and the snow,
Into the green world where primroses grow.
Winter, hard winter, forgotten, forgiven;
All the old pain paid, to seventy times seven,
All the new glory a-glow.
Love, when Spring calls, will you still turn away?
Winter has wooed you in vain, and shall May?
Love, when Spring calls, will you go?
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Love Is.............................
Love is desire,
Love is on fire,
Love is my word,
Love is to hold,
Love is my sin,
Love is my dream.
Love is lust,
Love is my truth,
Love is my journey,
Love makes me horny,
Love is on me,
Love is what you see,
Love teach me how,
Love takes a bow,
Love never dies,
Love is a surprise,
Love take care of you,
Love is true,
Love is my faith,
Love is great,
Love is so real,
Love is dear,
Love is you,
I love you, always do
poem by Gianni Pintus
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So What Makes Desire Of All Kinds?
So what makes one desire
What is that which propagates interest
What makes us love to rest?
Or love to rise, love to run and love to walk?
What makes us love to talk?
How do you decide what you like?
Everyone is different, but how do we arrive
At the conclusion of what we like, or from what do we derive
Enjoyment, what makes it fun, why ride a bike?
Why play a video game, why take a nature hike?
What makes us like heat or cold
Or love to buy that is sold?
How do we decide our own interests?
What is it that I do to digress?
From reality- and the pervasive question
Why? this is my source of depression
Loss of identity, what do i like and why?
What makes me love the sky
At sunset, what makes it beautiful?
The final question i must ask is just
Just what is love? and makes us love?
Why do I love her, was it all a dream
What is love? ! Not what does it SEEM? !
poem by David Knox
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Winter's Whitest Spurts
Although John Clare declared that he
saw spring in winter’s whitest spurts,
for many this is hard to see
when, freezing, all our body hurts,
and winter’s direst discontent
makes cold blasts pierce the frozen soul.
We wonder where the summer went
when icy winds exact their toll,
and whistling toll for all of us
on nights we wish would be more silent.
each blast a blaring blunderbuss
that’s aimed to make us all an island,
disconnected from the spring
and summer, fall, that we remember
when we for warmth our cold arms fling
around each other in December.
Inspired by John Clare’s “The Winter’s Spring”:
THE winter comes; I walk alone,
I want no bird to sing;
To those who keep their hearts their own
The winter is the spring.
No flowers to please-no bees to hum-
The coming spring's already come.
I never want the Christmas rose
To come before its time;
The seasons, each as God bestows,
Are simple and sublime.
I love to see the snowstorm hing;
'Tis but the winter garb of spring.
I never want the grass to bloom:
The snowstorm's best in white.
I love to see the tempest come
And love its piercing light.
The dazzled eyes that love to cling
O'er snow-white meadows sees the spring.
I love the snow, the crumpling snow
That hangs on everything,
It covers everything below
Like white dove's brooding wing,
A landscape to the aching sight,
A vast expanse of dazzling light.
It is the foliage of the woods
That winters bring-the dress,
White Easter of the year in bud,
That makes the winter Spring.
The frost and snow his posies bring,
Nature's white spurts of the spring.
12/24/09
poem by Gershon Hepner
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Song Of The Desert Lark
Love, love, in vain
We count the days of Spring.
Lost is all love's pain,
Lost the songs we sing.
Sunshine and Summer rain,
Winter and Spring again
Still the years shall bring,
But we die.
Love, what a noon
Of happy love was ours!
Grief came too soon,
Touched the Autumn flowers,
Grief and the doubt of death,
Mixed with the roses' breath.
Darkly the Winter lowers,
And we die.
His torch, love, the Sun
Turns to the stormy West,
Like a fair dream begun
Changing to jest.
Love, while our souls are one,
Still let us sing the Sun,
Sing and forget the rest
And so die.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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There's a fire in my veins- but it's not love
There's a fire in my veins- but it's not love.
There's sweat on my brow- but not from danger;
There's fire in my veins,
And I'm feeling quite insane-
Think I'm turning into a stranger.
There's a fire in my veins- but it's not love.
There's a flush on my face, but not from ire;
There's a fire all the same,
Like the cooling has waned-
Think I'll be my own funeral pyre?
There's a fire in my veins- but it's not love.
There's some sweat running down for no reason;
I'm sure it would be treason,
If I said this thing was easin'-
Think womanhood is just out of season?
poem by Patti Masterman
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To His Lady
(Who asked a Song in Spring)
WHY do you bid your poet sing,
Who has no mind to song--
Who only wants to see the Spring,
Long sought and tarrying long?
The shivering, dreary winter through
My song enshrined my vow;
If then my songs were sweet to you,
Let me be silent now!
Have I not duly sung, my dear,
Your goodness and your grace?
Now that your rival, Spring, is here,
O let me see her face!
The hedge is white with buds of May,
The fields are green with Spring,
Oh, give your bard a holiday:
He does not want to sing!
He wants to listen; all alone,
He wants to steal away
To hear the ring-doves' tender tone,
And what the thrushes say.
He wants to hear what can't be heard
When you and love are near--
The sweet Spring's soft and secret word;
Oh, let him go, my dear!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Blossoms and My Love
The unusual winter warmth,
Has brought the spring fever in the nature and in my heart,
The pink, purple and white blossoms are blooming all around,
just reminding me of your warm and sensuous loving heart.
How can I compare your beauty with the spring blossoms?
In red blossoms, I see your luscious red lips,
In white blossoms, I see your beautiful body,
The purple blossoms, reminds me of the depth of your eyes,
Closer I get to the blossoms,
closer I get to the God's intricate creation,
Closer I get to your loving affection,
closer I watch the heavenly smiles on your lips.
Under the blossoming tree I walk,
the fragrance fills my love yearning heart,
When I hug you with my sincere love,
your sweet 'I love you' words, fills me with eternal love.
poem by Jay P Narain
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i Love You In The Morning
I love you in the morning
I love you in the night
I love you when I see you
I love you when you are out of sight
I love you when it's raining
I love you when it's dry
I love you when you're laughing
I love you when you cry
I love you in the winter
I love you in the spring
I love you you're humming
I love you when you sing
I love you when you kiss me
I love you more than more
I love you a million simply every single day
I love you so much I simply can't keep up the score
poem by Ken e Hall
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