Chapter 1 : William Shakespeare - Short Poems This is the first paperback reprint of the beautiful Sylvan Press edition of Shakespeare's love poems. First published in, the Sylvan Press edition was printed in a limited edition and was allowed to go out of print when all copies were sold out. Let me not in languour pine! Love loves no delay; thy sight, The more delayed, the more divine! O come, and take from me The pain of being deprived of thee! Thou all sweetness dost enclose! Like a little world of bliss: Beauty guards thy looks. The rose In them, pure and eternal is. Campion, circa Shall I come, sweet love! Shall I not excluded be? Will you find no feigned let? Let me not, for pity, more, Tell the long hours at your door! Who can tell what thief or foe, In the covert of the night, For his prey, will work my woe; Or through wicked, foul despite. So may I die unredrest, Ere my long love be possest. Do not mock me in thy bed! While these cold nights freeze me dead. I can write for you alone, on a wordless universe and make you feel my god, to whom I can belong more than once-- I -- your woman, a poet -- can make you immortal with a song. Or else it will plain and then appear ; But rather restore it mannerly, Since that I do ask it thus honestly ; For to lose it, it sitteth me too near; Help me to seek. Alas and is there no remedy? But have I thus lost it wilfully? I wis it was a thing all too dear To be bestowed, and wist not where: It was mine heart, I pray you heartily Help me to seek. Sir Thomas Wyatt - Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dales and fields, Or woods or steepy mountain yields. And we will sit upon the rocks, And see the shepherds feed their flocks By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies; A cap of flowers and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle. A belt of straw and ivy buds With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me and be my love. The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning. If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my love. O Mistress mine, where are you roaming? From Twelfth Night Act 2 Scene 3. Page 1
Chapter 2 : » 10 Greatest Love Poems Ever Written English poet and playwright - Shakespeare is widely considered to be the greatest writer in the English language. He wrote 38 plays and sonnets. Shakespeare's poems consider themes of love, beauty, death, decay and the inevitable. And like death, love seems to be something most poets know little about; for evidence, see their biographies. The poems I have chosen this time cover the full spectrum of responses to love, from joy to anguish, and sometimes a mixture of both. As befits the topic this time, the list is a bit heavy on Romantics and light on those rational Enlightenment types. Here, with a few comments and no apologies, is the list: Drayton, a contemporary and possible acquaintance of the Bard, evidently had come to the unhappy end of an affair when he penned this sonnet. He begins with a show of stoic indifference: How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death. Instead, it promulgates one of the oldest arguments of a swain to a maid: In any case, I hope it worked for him. The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the ocean, The winds of heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one spirit meet and mingle. Why not I with thine? What is all this sweet work worth If thou kiss not me? In this poem, the lover is attempting to gain his desire by appealing to the tender emotions of his object. Coleridge, by the way, could really tell a romantic story, whatever his ulterior motives. All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope! I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving storyâ An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace; For well she knew, I could not choose But gaze upon her face. I told her of the Knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand; And that for ten long years he wooed The Lady of the Land. I told her how he pined: She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes, and modest grace; And she forgave me, that I gazed Too fondly on her face! But when I told the cruel scorn That crazed that bold and lovely Knight, And that he crossed the mountain-woods, Nor rested day nor night; That sometimes from the savage den, And sometimes from the darksome shade, And sometimes starting up at once In green and sunny glade,â There came and looked him in the face An angel beautiful and bright; And that he knew it was a Fiend, This miserable Knight! And that unknowing what he did, He leaped amid a murderous band, And saved from outrage worse than death The Lady of the Land! And how she wept, and clasped his knees; And how she tended him in vainâ And ever strove to expiate The scorn that crazed his brain;â And that she nursed him in a cave; And how his madness went away, When on the yellow forest-leaves A dying man he lay;â His dying wordsâ but when I reached That tenderest strain of all the ditty, My faultering voice and pausing harp Disturbed her soul with pity! All impulses of soul and sense Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve; The music and the doleful tale, The rich and balmy eve; And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, An undistinguishable throng, And gentle wishes long subdued, Subdued and cherished long! She wept with pity and delight, She blushed with love, and virgin-shame; And like the murmur of a dream, I heard her breathe my name. Her bosom heavedâ she stepped aside, As conscious of my look she steppedâ Then suddenly, with timorous eye She fled to me and wept. She half enclosed me with her arms, She pressed me with a meek embrace; And bending back her head, looked up, And gazed upon my face. I calmed her fears, and she was calm, And told her love with virgin pride; And so I won my Genevieve, My bright and beauteous Bride. And even though we are parting now, I will return, no matter what. And fare thee weel, my only luve! And fare thee weel awhile! And I will come again, my luve, Though it were ten thousand mile. It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea: But we loved with a love that was more than loveâ I and my Annabel Lee; With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven Laughed loud at her and me. Page 2
And this was the reason that, long ago, In this kingdom by the sea, A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling My beautiful Annabel Lee; So that her highborn kinsman came And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea. The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went laughing at her and meâ Yes! But our love it was stronger by far than the love Of those who were older than weâ Of many far wiser than weâ And neither the laughter in heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul Of the beautiful Annabel Lee: For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side Of my darlingâ my darlingâ my life and my bride, In her sepulchre there by the sea, In her tomb by the sounding sea. The bitterness comes mainly in the first line: As the history goes, she could not produce the male heir Henry wanted and he probably wrongfully accused her of incest and adultery just so he could have her executed. This love, hijacked by higher forces, painfully elusive, and wildly tempting is exquisitely real and compelling. Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind, But as for me, alas, I may no more. The vain travail hath wearied me so sore, I am of them that farthest cometh behind. Yet may I by no means my wearied mind Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore, Since in a net I seek to hold the wind. Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt, As well as I may spend his time in vain. And graven with diamonds in letters plain There is written, her fair neck round about: Sexuality ends with death, which is inevitable, so what are you saving it for? Had we but world enough and time, This coyness, lady, were no crime. I would Love you ten years before the flood, And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews. My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires and more slow; An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze; Two hundred to adore each breast, But thirty thousand to the rest; An age at least to every part, And the last age should show your heart. For, lady, you deserve this state, Nor would I love at lower rate. Now therefore, while the youthful hue Sits on thy skin like morning dew, And while thy willing soul transpires At every pore with instant fires, Now let us sport us while we may, And now, like amorous birds of prey, Rather at once our time devour Than languish in his slow-chapped power. Let us roll all our strength and all Our sweetness up into one ball, And tear our pleasures with rough strife Through the iron gates of life: Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run. Surprisingly, the first eight lines are not about love or even human life; Keats looks at a personified star Venus? Somehow, the surprising juxtaposition of the wide view of earth as seen from the heavens and the intimate picture of the lovers works to invest the scene of dalliance with a cosmic importance. John Donne sometimes accomplished this same effect, though none of his poems made my final cut. Even death cannot lord itself over love, which persists to the end of time itself. The final couplet strongly reaffirms his commitment: If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. It seems Shakespeare may be talking about a deeper layer of love, transcending sensual attraction and intimacy, something more akin to compassion or benevolence for your fellow man. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. Post your own best love poem pick or list in the comments section below. Conrad Geller is an old, mostly formalist poet, a Bostonian now living in Northern Virginia. His work has appeared widely in print and electronically. Choose Wisely Calling for the next U. Poet Laureate to be a traditional rhyming poet A double refrained chant royal in iambic pentameter O hark Page 3
Chapter 3 : Love Poem by William Shakespeare - Poem Hunter All the Love Poems of Shakespeare Postcard decorated by Eric Gill LOVINGTON Hearts special hand stamp Castle Cary Somerset postmark refe Special Hand Stamped Royal Mail Postcard in Very Good Condition - address label on reverse. Thou art more lovely and more temperate: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this and this gives life to thee. Love Sonnet 40 Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all; What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call; All mine was thine before thou hadst this more. Then if for my love thou my love receivest, I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest; But yet be blamed, if thou thyself deceivest By wilful taste of what thyself refusest. Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows, Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes. Love Sonnet 44 If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, Injurious distance should not stop my way. For then, despite of space, I would be brought From limits far remote where thou dost stay. No matter then although my foot did stand Upon the farthest earth removed from thee. For nimble thought can jump both sea and land As soon as think the place where he would be. His beauty shall in these black lines be seen, And they shall live, and he in them still green. Love Sonnet Let not my love be called idolatry, Nor my beloved as an idol show, Since all alike my songs and praises be To one, of one, still such, and ever so. Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind, Still constant in a wondrous excellence; Therefore my verse to constancy confined, One thing expressing, leaves out difference. Fair, kind, and true, is all my argument, Fair, kind, and true, varying to other words; And in this change is my invention spent, Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords. Fair, kind, and true, have often lived alone, Which three till now, never kept seat in one. Love Sonnet O, never say that I was false of heart, Though absence seemed my flame to qualify. As easy might I from my self depart As from my soul which in thy breast doth lie. That is my home of love; if I have ranged, Like him that travels I return again, Just to the time, not with the time exchanged, So that myself bring water for my stain. Never believe though in my nature reigned All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, That it could so preposterously be stained To leave for nothing all thy sum of good; For nothing this wide universe I call Save thou, my rose, in it thou art my all Upward Love Sonnet Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments; love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: If this be error and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved. I have seen roses damasked, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound; I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground. And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare As any she belied with false compare. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best, Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue: On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed: But wherefore says she not she is unjust? And wherefore say not I that I am old? Therefore I lie with her, and she with My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except. For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. Or if they have, where is my judgment fled That censures falsely what they see aright? If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, What means the world to say it is not so? No, How can it? No marvel then though I mistake my view: The sun itself sees not till heaven clears. Love Sonnet Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep: Chapter 4 : 58 Absolutely Beautiful Love Poems You Should Read Right Now ðÿ ðÿ Note: Citations are based on reference standards. However, formatting rules can vary widely between applications and fields of interest or study. The specific requirements or preferences of your reviewing publisher, classroom teacher, institution or organization should be applied. Page 4
Chapter 5 : Shakespeare Love Quotes: 50 Shakespeare Quotes On Love First published in, the Sylvan Press edition was printed in a limited edition and was allowed to go to out of print when all copies were sold. The distinguished English sculptor and engraver Eric Gill designed the format and also contributed the attractive decorations that appear in this edition. Chapter 6 : The 10 best love poems All poems of William Shakespeare» Search in the poems of William Shakespeare: an English poet and playwright, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist. Chapter 7 : All the Love Poems of Shakespeare by William Shakespeare But the most highly regarded English writer of all time also had a romantic side, resulting in an incredible selection of one-of-a-kind, heart pumping, butterflies in the stomach William Shakespeare love quotes. Chapter 8 : Shakespeare - Love Poems Shakespeare's sonnets are not given here, as they are readily available on the main site. For those desirous of a quick selection I suggest Nos 18, 23, 31, 46, 53, 61, 75, 91, 98,,, Chapter 9 : Shakespeare Love Quotes The problem is that if Shakespeare is right about love's constancy, then none of the other poems in this list would have been written, or else they're not really about love. It seems Shakespeare may be talking about a deeper layer of love, transcending sensual attraction and intimacy, something more akin to compassion or benevolence for. Page 5