Poems on Love, When You Feel it!
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Here are a few love poems that you might enjoy:

Love Poem
  1. “Love Sonnet XVII” by Pablo Neruda:

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way

“Love Sonnet XVII” by Pablo Neruda

  1. “Love’s Philosophy” by Percy Bysshe Shelley:

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 another’s being mingle— Why not I with thine?

See the mountains kiss high heaven And the waves clasp one another; No sister-flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother, And the sunlight clasps the earth And the moonbeams kiss the sea: What are all these kissings worth If thou kiss not me?

“Love’s Philosophy” by Percy Bysshe Shelley
  1. “Love’s Old Sweet Song” by James Joyce:

Just a song at twilight, when the lights are low And the flickering shadows softly come and go Though the heart be weary, sad the day and long Still to us at twilight comes love’s old sweet song

“Love’s Old Sweet Song” by James Joyce
  1. “Love Is Not All” by Edna St. Vincent Millay:

Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain; Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink And rise and sink and rise and sink again; Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath, Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone; Yet many a man is making friends with death Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.

It well may be that in a difficult hour, Pinned down by pain and moaning for release, Or nagged by want past resolution’s power, I might be driven to sell your love for peace, Or trade the memory of this night for food. It well may be. I do not think I would.

“Love Is Not All” by Edna St. Vincent Millay”


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