Song
My silks and fine array,
My smiles and languish'd air,
By love are driv'n away;
And mournful lean Despair
Brings me yew to deck my grave;
Such end true lovers have.
His face is fair as heav'n
When springing buds unfold;
O why to him was't giv'n
Whose heart is wintry cold?
His breast is love's all-worshipp'd tomb,
Where all love's pilgrims come.
Bring me an axe and spade,
Bring me a winding sheet;
When I my grave have made
Let winds and tempests beat:
Then down I'll lie as cold as clay.
True love doth pass away!
poem by William Blake
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cold Blows The Wind
Cold blows the wind over my true love
Cold blows the drops of rain
I never had but one true love
And in camville he was slain
I'll do as much for my true love as any young girl may
I'll sit and weep down by his grave for twelve month and one day
But when twelve months were come and gone
This young man he arose
What makes you weep down by my grave
I can't take my repose
One kiss, one kiss of your lily white lips -- one kiss is all i crave
One kiss, one kiss of your lily white lips and return back to your grave
My lips they are as cold as my clay
My breath is heavy and strong
If thou was to kiss my lily white lips
Thy days would not be long
Oh don't you remember the garden grove where we used to walk
Pluck the finest flower of them all, twill wither to a stalk
Go fetch me a nun from the dungeon deep
And water from a stone
And white milk from a maiden's breast,
That babe ere never known
Go dig me a grave both long, wide and deep as quickly as you may
I'll lie down in it and take one sleep for twelve month and one day
Cold blows the wind over my true love
Cold blows the drops of rain
I never had but one true love
And in camville he was slain
I'll do as much for my true love as any young girl may
I'll sit and weep down by his grave for twelve month and one day
song performed by by Ween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Not
LOVE not, love not! ye hapless sons of clay!
Hope’s gayest wreaths are made of earthly flowers—
Things that are made to fade and fall away
Ere they have blossom’d for a few short hours.
Love not!
Love not! the thing ye love may change:
The rosy lip may cease to smile on you,
The kindly-beaming eye grow cold and strange,
The heart still warmly beat, yet not be true.
Love not!
Love not! the thing you love may die,
May perish from the gay and gladsome earth;
The silent stars, the blue and smiling sky,
Beam o’er its grave, as once upon its birth.
Love not!
Love not! oh warning vainly said
In present hours as in the years gone by;
Love flings a halo round the dear ones’ head,
Faultless, immortal, till they change or die,
Love not!
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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True Love Is Gone
True love is weak, when lovers are weak,
True love is meaningless, when lovers are useless,
True love is not true, when lovers are untrue,
True love is wickedness if lovers are wicked,
One sided love, is not true love,
Fault finding in love isn't its stand,
It isn't perfectness, but affections
Nor not for something on somebody,
True love is dead, when it is believed to alive,
True love is wrong if lovers are right,
True love will lose, if lovers are winners,
True love is gone if lovers stays.
poem by Dickson Mseti
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The Mad Maid's Song
Good morrow to the day so fair;
Good morning, sir, to you;
Good morrow to mine own torn hair,
Bedabbled with the dew.
Good morning to this primrose too;
Good morrow to each maid;
That will with flowers the tomb bestrew
Wherein my Love is laid.
Ah! woe is me, woe, woe is me,
Alack and well-a-day!
For pity, sir, find out that bee,
Which bore my Love away.
I'll seek him in your bonnet brave;
I'll seek him in your eyes;
Nay, now I think they've made his grave
I' th' bed of strawberries.
I'll seek him there; I know, ere this,
The cold, cold earth doth shake him;
But I will go, or send a kiss
By you, sir, to awake him.
Pray hurt him not; though he be dead,
He knows well who do love him;
And who with green turfs rear his head,
And who do rudely move him.
He's soft and tender, pray take heed,
With bands of cowslips bind him,
And bring him home;--but 'tis decreed
That I shall never find him.
poem by Robert Herrick
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One That Completes
Bring me that love,
My Dear Father.
Bring that love to me.
Bring me that love,
My Dear Father...
That love that is true as can be.
When I awaken from my sleep,
I'd like that love near by,
I want to share deep feelings and cares.
With one who will come,
To rescue this from inside me.
Like no one has ever done.
Bring me that love,
My Dear Father.
Bring that love to me.
Bring me the kind of love, My Dear Father
The kind that sets mine and other hearts free.
If You allow this to happen,
With Your blessings I'll receive.
I'll do the best to be better than I've been...
And not to take that love for granted
As I did when my needs grew selfishly.
And in sorrow those needs came to an end.
Helping me to realize,
No love would stand by true love in disguise.
Those are scars I no longer visit.
No longer catching me by surprise.
Bring me that love,
My Dear Father.
Bring that love to me.
Bring me that love,
My Dear Father...
That love that is true as can be.
I want You to bring
That kind of love I seek...
My Father.
Bring that one that completes,
And sets my feelings free!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Can You Feel The Winds?
I cast my fate to the winds
and hope that they will blow
into the direction where true love lies
and where all true lovers go.
For the winds are peaceful breezes
until I think of thee.
Then they become tempestuous
and as fierce as they can be.
And if you're peacefully sleeping
and cannot hear their sound
then all the fates that have ever been
will not bring you 'round.
And only I will feel the winds
as they make their way.
And you, my love will never know
that my feelings blew away.
If you enjoy my love poetry visit my bookstore and my 2 love books
at http: //stores.lulu.com/reizerj
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Love was True to Me
LOVE was true to me,
True and tender;
I who ought to be
Love's defender,
Let the cold winds blow
Till they chilled him;
Let the winds and snow
Shroud him—and I know
That I killed him.
Years he cried to me
To be kinder;
I was blind to see
And grew blinder.
Years with soft hands raised
Fondly reaching,
Wept and prayed and praised,
Still beseeching.
When he died I woke,
God! how lonely,
When the gray dawn broke
On one only.
Now beside Love's grave
I am kneeling;
All he sought and gave
I am feeling.
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
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Willow, Willow, Willow
A poore soule sat sighing under a sicamore tree;
O willow, willow, willow!
With his hand on his bosom, his head on his knee:
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland.
He sigh'd in his singing, and after each grone,
Come willow, willow, willow!
Come willow, willow, willow!
'I am dead to all pleasure, my true-love is gone.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow shall be may garland.
'My love she is turned; untrue she doth prove;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
She renders me nothing but hate for my love.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the grene willow, &c.
'O pitty me' (cried he), 'ye lovers each one;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Her heart's hard as marble; she rues not my mone.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.'
The cold streams ran by him, his eyes wept apace;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
The salt tears fell from him, which drowned his face.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
The mute birds sate by him, made tame by his mones;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
The salt tears fell from him, which softened the stones.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland!
'Let nobody blame me, her scornes I do prove;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
She was borne to be faire; I, to die for her love.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
'O that beauty should harbour a heart that's so hard!
Sing willow, willow, willow!
Sing willow, willow, willow!
My true love rejecting without all regard.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
'Let love no more boast him in palace or bower;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
For women are trothles, and flote in an houre.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
'But what helps complaining? In vaine I complaine:
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
I must patiently suffer her scorne and disdaine.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
'Come, all you forsaken, and sit down by me,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
He that 'plaines of his false love, mine's falser than she.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
'The willow wreath weare I, since my love did fleet;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
A garland for lovers forsaken most meete.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland!'
Part the Second
'Lowe lay'd by my sorrow, begot by disdaine,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Against her too cruell, still, still I complaine.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland!
'O love too injurious, to wound my poore heart,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
To suffer the triumph, and joy in my smart!
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
'O willow, willow, willow! the willow garland,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
A sign of her falsenesse before me doth stand.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland.
'As here it doth bid to despair and to dye,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
So hang it, friends, ore me in grave where I lye.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
'In grave where I rest mee, hang this to the view,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Of all that doe knowe her, to blaze her untrue.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
'With these words engraven, as epitaph meet,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
'Here lyes one, drank poyson for potion most sweet.'
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
'Though she thus unkindly hath scorned my love,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
And carelessly smiles at the sorrowes I prove;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
'I cannot against her unkindly exclaim,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Cause once well I loved her, and honoured her name.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland.
'The name of her sounded so sweete in mine eare,
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
It rays'd my heart lightly, the name of my deare;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
'As then 'twas my comfort, it now is my griefe;
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
It now brings me anguish; then brought me reliefe.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow, &c.
'Farewell, faire false-hearted, plaints end with my breath!
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Thou dost loath me, I love thee, though cause of my death.
O willow, willow, willow!
O willow, willow, willow!
Sing, O the greene willow shall be my garland.'
poem by Anonymous Olde English
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bring Your Tender love To Me
Time goes on and my mind goes up,
But the muse of love is what i do bring closer to you;
And it is like the experiences of my mind to teach many.
The human nature,
Of the human love attached to bring you closer;
And like your tender love behind the coconut tree.
Many are to learn from my poetry and,
Like the expressions of my mind from a realm;
For it is all about love and peace on this earth.
This is all about love and life,
This is all about love and peace,
This is all about love and care,
This is all about love and joy,
For we have to express ourselves at all times;
So do bring your tender love to me my sweet one.
This love of a muse is about you,
This place of a care is about you,
This heart of a peaceful mind is about you,
And this special love goes to you always;
For it is like the thousand days gone by in the cold of love.
Where are your arms to keep me warm?
For i do think only about your tender love all day long;
And like the true love that will wake me up during the summer.
Your tender love is all that i need so,
Bring up your love to me that it may muse with the golden tree!
For my mind is on you always that,
I will be there always to love you with the kisses from a realm.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Dead Love
Oh never weep for love that’s dead
Since love is seldom true
But changes his fashion from blue to red,
From brightest red to blue,
And love was born to an early death
And is so seldom true.
Then harbour no smile on your bonny face
To win the deepest sigh.
The fairest words on truest lips
Pass on and surely die,
And you will stand alone, my dear,
When wintry winds draw nigh.
Sweet, never weep for what cannot be,
For this God has not given.
If the merest dream of love were true
Then, sweet, we should be in heaven,
And this is only earth, my dear,
Where true love is not given.
poem by Elizabeth Eleanor Siddal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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True Love It Was
With the true feelings of my heart I love you. Why did you leave me? You gave such a cold reaction by saying to me, forget the past. How can past be forgotten? True lovers can never forget love which they shared. Not even a thank you or sorry can make up for it because it was true love. Our hearts matched together and we became complete. Although, it could last for only a little while. This is my one and only regret since I forever wanted to be with you. With you I would have shared love, true love.
poem by Rohit Sapra
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Some Other Spring
Irene kitchings / arthur herzog jr.
Some other spring
Ill try to love
Now I still cling
To faded blossoms
Fresh from worn
Left chrushed and torn
Like the love affair I mourn
Some other spring
When twilight falls
Will the night bring
Another to me?
Not your kind
But let me find
Its not true that love is blind
Sunshines around me
But deep in my heart its cold as ice
Love, once youve found me
But can that story unfold twice?
Some other spring
Will my heart awake?
Stirring to sing
Loves magic music
Then forget the old duet
Love in some other spring?
Spring?
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bride
WEAVE me no wreath of orange blossom,
No bridal white shall me adorn;
I wear a red rose in my bosom;
To-morrow I shall wear the thorn.
Bring me no gauds to deck my beauty,
Put by the jewels and the lace;
My love to honour and to duty
Was plighted ere he saw my face.
I hear his impatient charger neighing,
I hear the trumpets blow afar!
His comrades ride, as to a Maying,
Jesting and splendid to the war.
Why is my lady-mother weeping?
Why is my father grievèd sore?
Oh, love, God have you in His keeping,
The day you leave your true-love's door.
Gay is the golden harvest spreading,
The orchard's all in rose and gold;
Who said it was a mournful wedding?
My hand in yours, Love, is not cold.
Go glad and gay to meet the foeman,
I love you to my latest breath;
Oh, love, there is no happier woman.
See, I am smiling! Love-till death!
poem by Katharine Tynan
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I Don't Need a Woman
I don’t need a woman
She’ll only bring me down
I don’t need a woman
Love is thrown around
I can live on my own
I don’t like it, but I can
I could get a maid
That’s all I need
But my life is so sad
And no one will listen
It’s hard to live in change
When love will act so strange
She won’t get me
I’ll be on my own
She won’t know me
And love will not be shown
A fake love cannot last
Put that phase alone in the past
I don’t need a woman
She’ll only bring me down
I don’t need a woman
Love is thrown around
My bed sleeps empty
And cold at night
A woman will love you
But won’t love you right
As the days fly past
Happy couples will last
But true love is rare
As the days fly past
Happy couples will last
But true love is not here
I don’t need a woman
She’ll only bring me down
I don’t need a woman
Love is thrown around
poem by Robbie Squires
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As ye came from the Holy Land
As ye came from the holy land
Of Walsinghame,
Met you not with my true love
By the way as you came?
How should I know your true love,
That have met many a one
As I came from the holy land,
That have come, that have gone?
She is neither white nor brown,
But as the heavens fair;
There is none hath her form divine
In the earth or the air.
Such a one did I meet, good sir,
Such an angelic face,
Who like a nymph, like a queen, did appear
In her gait, in her grace.
She hath left me here alone
All alone, as unknown,
Who sometime did me lead with herself,
And me loved as her own.
What's the cause that she leaves you alone
And a new way doth take,
That sometime did love you as her own,
And her joy did you make?
I have loved her all my youth,
But now am old, as you see:
Love likes not the falling fruit,
Nor the withered tree.
Know that Love is a careless child,
And forgets promise past:
He is blind, he is deaf when he list,
And in faith never fast.
His desire is a dureless content,
And a trustless joy;
He is won with a world of despair,
And is lost with a toy.
Of womenkind such indeed is the love,
Or the word love abused,
Under which many childish desires
And conceits are excused.
But true love is a durable fire,
In the mind ever burning,
Never sick, never dead, never cold,
From itself never turning.
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Messages
What shall I your true-love tell,
Earth-forsaking maid?
What shall I your true-love tell,
When life's spectre's laid?
'Tell him that, our side the grave,
Maid may not conceive
Life should be so sad to have,
That's so sad to leave!'
What shall I your true-love tell,
When I come to him?
What shall I your true-love tell--
Eyes growing dim!
'Tell him this, when you shall part
From a maiden pined;
That I see him with my heart,
Now my eyes are blind.'
What shall I your true-love tell?
Speaking-while is scant.
What shall I your true-love tell,
Death's white postulant?
'Tell him--love, with speech at strife,
For last utterance saith:
I, who loved with all my life,
Love with all my death.'
poem by Francis Thompson
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Hey There, Mr. Lonely Heart
This song was first released on the one world album. it is the only album it has been released on.
Hey there, mr. lonely heart, if you could find the time
I would like to sit and talk, to see if we could find
The answer to the mystery of love's most precious seed
Is it in a touch or in a kiss or simply in the need
Or is it really love itself that always wants to give
The heart and soul of all of us and everything that lives
Hey there, mr. cold, cold heart, i know i could be wrong
To think that life could be so sweet and love could be so strong
As to gather everyone of us, like one big family
To share with one another all we have and all we see
It's true the deepest part of us is everywhere the same
And that the only differences are really just the names
We can join the children's song and show them that we care
Let them know we're on their side, no matter when or where
We can free their hearts from fear and hunger reconcile
We can give a child a chance and give a child a smile
True love is still the answer, and we are still the way
The gift is in the giving, and in living what we say
And if you have a lonely heart, this song is just for you
To ask for all that you can give and all that you can do
Remember that the mystery of love's most precious seed
Is in the heart of all of us, true love is all we need
It's in the heart of all of us, true love is all we need
Within the heart of all of us, true love is all we need
Within the heart of all of us, true love is all we need
Within the heart of all of us, true love is all we need
Within the heart of all of us, true love is all we need
Within the heart of all of us, true love is all we need
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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True Love
True love passes all understandings.
True love expresses loyalty.
True love hurts but can learn how to mend.
True love dreams the highest dreams.
True love waits until the stars visit the day.
True love seeks good for the other.
True love lends forgiveness.
True love cries but washes away the pains.
True love makes an ignorant boy a mature man.
True love softens the heart of a girl to a nurtured woman.
True love never lies.
True love loves a person until forever.
True love sees love even though the hair is white.
And most of all.TRUE LOVE never breaks promises,
poem by Khushi throne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Spring Poem From Bion
One asketh:
'Tell me, Myrson, tell me true:
What's the season pleaseth you?
Is it summer suits you best,
When from harvest toil we rest?
Is it autumn with its glory
Of all surfeited desires?
Is it winter, when with story
And with song we hug our fires?
Or is spring most fair to you-
Come, good Myrson, tell me true!'
Another answereth:
'What the gods in wisdom send
We should question not, my friend;
Yet, since you entreat of me,
I will answer reverently:
Me the summertime displeases,
For its sun is scorching hot;
Autumn brings such dire diseases
That perforce I like it not;
As for biting winter, oh!
How I hate its ice and snow!
'But, thrice welcome, kindly spring,
With the myriad gifts you bring!
Not too hot nor yet too cold,
Graciously your charms unfold-
Oh, your days are like the dreaming
Of those nights which love beseems,
And your nights have all the seeming
Of those days of golden dreams!
Heaven smiles down on earth, and then
Earth smiles up to heaven again!'
poem by Eugene Field
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Summer Song
I looked into my heart to write
And found a desert there.
But when I looked again I heard
Howling and proud in every word
The hyena despair.
Great summer sun, great summer sun,
All loss burns in trophies;
And in the cold sheet of the sky
Lifelong the fishlipped lovers lie
Kissing catastrophes.
O loving garden where I lay
When under the breasted tree
My son stood up behind my eyes
And groaned: Remember that the price
Is vinegar for me.
Great summer sun, great summer sun,
Turn back to the designer:
I would not be the one to start
The breaking day and the breaking heart
For all the grief in China.
My one, my one, my only love,
Hide, hide your face in a leaf,
And let the hot tear falling burn
The stupid heart that will not learn
The everywhere of grief.
Great summer sun, great summer sun,
Turn back to the never-never
Cloud-cuckoo, happy, far-off land
Where all the love is true love, and
True love goes on for ever.
poem by George Barker
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