Romance poems, at times, may give us a glimpse of insight into interaction. Whatever, they are always good to read at least once!
Romance poems by author-names starting with A
Andrei Voznesensky:
Poem on Romance titled RUSSIAN-AMERICAN ROMANCE:
In my land and yours they do hit the hay and sleep the whole night in a similar way.
There's the golden Moon with a double shine. It lightens your land and it lightens mine.
At the same low price, that is for free, there's the sunrise for you and the sunset for me.
The wind is cool at the break of day, it's neither your fault nor mine, anyway.
Behind your lies and behind my lies there is pain and love for our Motherlands.
I wish in your land and mine some day we'd put all idiots out of the way.
Romance poems by author-names starting with C
Romance poems byClaude McKay:
Romance poem titled Romance:
To clasp you now and feel your head close-pressed, Scented and warm against my beating breast;
To whisper soft and quivering your name, And drink the passion burning in your frame;
To lie at full length, taut, with cheek to cheek, And tease your mouth with kisses till you speak
Love words, mad words, dream words, sweet senseless words, Melodious like notes of mating birds;
To hear you ask if I shall love always, And myself answer: Till the end of days;
To feel your easeful sigh of happiness When on your trembling lips I murmur: Yes;
It is so sweet. We know it is not true. What matters it? The night must shed her dew.
We know it is not true, but it is sweet -- The poem with this music is complete.
Romance poems by author-names starting with E
Romance poems byEdgar Allan Poe:
Romance poem titled Romance:
Romance, who loves to nod and sing With drowsy head and folded wing Among the green leaves as they shake Far down within some shadowy lake, To me a painted paroquet Hath been—most familiar bird— Taught me my alphabet to say, To lisp my very earliest word While in the wild wood I did lie, A child—with a most knowing eye.
Of late, eternal condor years So shake the very Heaven on high With tumult as they thunder by, I have no time for idle cares Through gazing on the unquiet sky; And when an hour with calmer wings Its down upon my spirit flings, That little time with lyre and rhyme To while away—forbidden things— My heart would feel to be a crime Unless it trembled with the strings.
Romance poems byEllis Parker Butler:
Romance poem titled The Romance Of Patrolman Casey:
There was a young patrolman who Had large but tender feet; They always hurt him badly when He walked upon his beat. (He always took them with him when He walked upon his beat.)
His name was Patrick Casey and A sweetheart fair had he; Her face was full of freckles—but Her name was Kate McGee. (It was in spite of freckles that Her name was Kate McGee.)
“Oh, Pat!” she said, “I’ll wed you when Promotion comes to you!” “I’m much-obliged,” he answered, and “I’ll see what I can do.” (I may remark he said it thus— “Oi’ll say phwat Oi kin do.”)
So then he bought some new shoes which Allowed his feet more ease— They may have been large twelves. Perhaps Eighteens, or twenty-threes. (That’s rather large for shoes, I think— Eighteens or twenty-threes!)
What last they were I don’t know, but Somehow it seems to me I’ve heard somewhere they either were A, B, C, D, or E. (More likely they were five lasts wide— A, B plus C, D, E.)
They were the stoutest cowhide that Could be peeled off a cow.
But he was not promoted
So Kate wed him anyhow.
(This world is crowded full of Kates That wed them anyhow.)
Romance poems byEmily Dickinson:
Romance poem titled No Romance sold unto:
No Romance sold unto Could so enthrall a Man As the perusal of His Individual One -- 'Tis Fiction's -- When 'tis small enough To Credit -- 'Tisn't true!
Romance poems by author-names starting with F
Romance poems byFederico Garcia Lorca:
Romance poem titled Romance Son?mbulo:
Green, how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship out on the sea and the horse on the mountain. With the shade around her waist she dreams on her balcony, green flesh, her hair green, with eyes of cold silver. Green, how I want you green. Under the gypsy moon, all things are watching her and she cannot see them.
Green, how I want you green. Big hoarfrost stars come with the fish of shadow that opens the road of dawn. The fig tree rubs its wind with the sandpaper of its branches, and the forest, cunning cat, bristles its brittle fibers. But who will come? And from where? She is still on her balcony green flesh, her hair green, dreaming in the bitter sea.
--My friend, I want to trade my horse for her house, my saddle for her mirror, my knife for her blanket. My friend, I come bleeding from the gates of Cabra. --If it were possible, my boy, I'd help you fix that trade. But now I am not I, nor is my house now my house. --My friend, I want to die decently in my bed. Of iron, if that's possible, with blankets of fine chambray. Don't you see the wound I have from my chest up to my throat? --Your white shirt has grown thirsy dark brown roses. Your blood oozes and flees a round the corners of your sash. But now I am not I, nor is my house now my house. --Let me climb up, at least, up to the high balconies; Let me climb up! Let me, up to the green balconies. Railings of the moon through which the water rumbles.
Now the two friends climb up, up to the high balconies. Leaving a trail of blood. Leaving a trail of teardrops. Tin bell vines were trembling on the roofs. A thousand crystal tambourines struck at the dawn light.
Green, how I want you green, green wind, green branches. The two friends climbed up. The stiff wind left in their mouths, a strange taste of bile, of mint, and of basil My friend, where is she--tell me-- where is your bitter girl? How many times she waited for you! How many times would she wait for you, cool face, black hair, on this green balcony! Over the mouth of the cistern the gypsy girl was swinging, green flesh, her hair green, with eyes of cold silver. An icicle of moon holds her up above the water. The night became intimate like a little plaza. Drunken "Guardias Civiles" were pounding on the door. Green, how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship out on the sea. And the horse on the mountain.
Romance poems by author-names starting with L
Romance poems byLord Byron:
Romance poem titled To Romance:
Parent of golden dreams, Romance! Auspicious Queen of childish joys, Who lead'st along, in airy dance, Thy votive train of girls and boys; At length, in spells no longer bound, I break the fetters of my youth; No more I tread thy mystic round, But leave thy realms for those of Truth.
And yet 'tis hard to quit the dreams Which haunt the unsuspicious soul, Where every nymph a goddess seems, Whose eyes through rays immortal roll; While Fancy holds her boundless reign, And all assume a varied hue; When Virgins seem no longer vain, And even Woman's smiles are true.
And must we own thee, but a name, And from thy hall of clouds descend? Nor find a Sylph in every dame, A Pylades in every friend? But leave, at once, thy realms of air i To mingling bands of fairy elves; Confess that woman's false as fair, And friends have feeling for---themselves?
With shame, I own, I've felt thy sway; Repentant, now thy reign is o'er; No more thy precepts I obey, No more on fancied pinions soar; Fond fool! to love a sparkling eye, And think that eye to truth was dear; To trust a passing wanton's sigh, And melt beneath a wanton's tear!
Romance! disgusted with deceit, Far from thy motley court I fly, Where Affectation holds her seat, And sickly Sensibility; Whose silly tears can never flow For any pangs excepting thine; Who turns aside from real woe, To steep in dew thy gaudy shrine.
Now join with sable Sympathy, With cypress crown'd, array'd in weeds, Who heaves with thee her simple sigh, Whose breast for every bosom bleeds; And call thy sylvan female choir, To mourn a Swain for ever gone, Who once could glow with equal fire, But bends not now before thy throne.
Ye genial Nymphs, whose ready tears On all occasions swiftly flow; Whose bosoms heave with fancied fears, With fancied flames and phrenzy glow Say, will you mourn my absent name, Apostate from your gentle train An infant Bard, at least, may claim From you a sympathetic strain.
Adieu, fond race! a long adieu! The hour of fate is hovering nigh; E'en now the gulf appears in view, Where unlamented you must lie: Oblivion's blackening lake is seen, Convuls'd by gales you cannot weather, Where you, and eke your gentle queen, Alas! must perish altogether.
Romance poems by author-names starting with L
Romance poems byRobert Louis Stevenson:
Romance poem titled Romance:
I WILL make you brooches and toys for your delight Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night. I will make a palace fit for you and me, Of green days in forests and blue days at sea.
I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room, Where white flows the river and bright blows the broom, And you shall wash your linen and keep your body white In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night.
And this shall be for music when no one else is near, The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear! That only I remember, that only you admire, Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire.
Romance poems byRobert William Service:
Romance poem titled Romance:
In Paris on a morn of May I sent a radio transalantic To catch a steamer on the way, But oh the postal fuss was frantic; They sent me here, they sent me there, They were so courteous yet so canny; Then as I wilted in despair A Frenchman flipped me on the fanny.
'Twas only juts a gentle pat, Yet oh what sympathy behind it! I don't let anyone do that, But somehow then I didn't mind it. He seemed my worry to divine, With kindly smile, that foreign mannie, And as we stood in waiting line With tender touch he tapped my fanny.
It brought a ripple of romance Into that postal bureau dreary; He gave me such a smiling glance That somehow I felt gay and cheery. For information on my case The postal folk searched nook and cranny; He gently tapped, with smiling face, His reassurance on my fanny.
So I'll go back to Tennessee, And they will ask: "How have you spent your Brief holiday in gay Paree?" But I'll not speak of my adventure. Oh say I'm spectacled and grey, Oh say I'm sixty and a grannie - But say that morn of May A Frenchman flipped me on the fanny!
Romance poems byRudyard Kipling:
Romance poem titled To the True Romance:
Thy face is far from this our war, Our call and counter-cry, I shall not find Thee quick and kind, Nor know Thee till I die, Enough for me in dreams to see And touch Thy garments' hem: Thy feet have trod so near to God I may not follow them.
Through wantonness if men profess They weary of Thy parts, E'en let them die at blasphemy And perish with their arts; But we that love, but we that prove Thine excellence august, While we adore discover more Thee perfect, wise, and just.
Since spoken word Man's Spirit stirred Beyond his belly-need, What is is Thine of fair design In thought and craft and deed; Each stroke aright of toil and fight, That was and that shall be, And hope too high, wherefore we die, Has birth and worth in Thee.
Who holds by Thee hath Heaven in fee To gild his dross thereby, And knowledge sure that he endure A child until he die -- For to make plain that man's disdain Is but new Beauty's birth -- For to possess in loneliness The joy of all the earth.
As Thou didst teach all lovers speech And Life all mystery, So shalt Thou rule by every school Till love and longing die, Who wast or yet the Lights were set, A whisper in the Void, Who shalt be sung through planets young When this is clean destroyed.
Beyond the bounds our staring rounds, Across the pressing dark, The children wise of outer skies Look hitherward and mark A light that shifts, a glare that drifts, Rekindling thus and thus, Not all forlorn, for Thou hast borne Strange tales to them of us.
Time hath no tide but must abide The servant of Thy will; Tide hath no time, for to Thy rhyme The ranging stars stand still -- Regent of spheres that lock our fears, Our hopes invisible, Oh 'twas certes at Thy decrees We fashioned Heaven and Hell!
Pure Wisdom hath no certain path That lacks thy morning-eyne, And captains bold by Thee controlled Most like to Gods design; Thou art the Voice to kingly boys To lift them through the fight, And Comfortress of Unsuccess, To give the dead good-night --
A veil to draw 'twixt God His Law And Man's infirmity, A shadow kind to dumb and blind The shambles where we die; A rule to trick th' arithmetic Too base of leaguing odds -- The spur of trust, the curb of lust, Thou handmaid of the Gods!
O Charity, all patiently Abiding wrack and scaith! O Faith, that meets ten thousand cheats Yet drops no jot of faith! Devil and brute Thou dost transmute To higher, lordlier show, Who art in sooth that lovely Truth The careless angels know!
Thy face is far from this our war, Our call and counter-cry, I may not find Thee quick and kind, Nor know Thee till I die.
Yet may I look with heart unshook On blow brought home or missed -- Yet may I hear with equal ear The clarions down the List; Yet set my lance above mischance And ride the barriere -- Oh, hit or miss, how little 'tis, My Lady is not there!
Romance poems by author-names starting with S
Romance poems bySamuel Coleridge:
Romance poem titled Love's Apparition and Evanishment: An Allegoric Romance:
Like a lone Arab, old and blind, Some caravan had left behind, Who sits beside a ruin'd well, Where the shy sand-asps bask and swell; And now he hangs his ag{'e}d head aslant, And listens for a human sound--in vain! And now the aid, which Heaven alone can grant, Upturns his eyeless face from Heaven to gain;-- Even thus, in vacant mood, one sultry hour, Resting my eye upon a drooping plant, With brow low-bent, within my garden-bower, I sate upon the couch of camomile; And--whether 'twas a transient sleep, perchance, Flitted across the idle brain, the while I watch'd the sickly calm with aimless scope, In my own heart; or that, indeed a trance, Turn'd my eye inward--thee, O genial Hope, Love's elder sister! thee did I behold Drest as a bridesmaid, but all pale and cold, With roseless cheek, all pale and cold and dim, Lie lifeless at my feet! And then came Love, a sylph in bridal trim, And stood beside my seat; She bent, and kiss'd her sister's lips, As she was wont to do;-- Alas! 'twas but a chilling breath Woke just enough of life in death To make Hope die anew.
Romance poems by author-names starting with W
Romance poems byWilliam Carlos Williams:
Romance poem titled Romance Moderne:
Tracks of rain and light linger in the spongy greens of a nature whose flickering mountain—bulging nearer, ebbing back into the sun hollowing itself away to hold a lake,— or brown stream rising and falling at the roadside, turning about, churning itself white, drawing green in over it,—plunging glassy funnels fall— And—the other world— the windshield a blunt barrier: Talk to me. Sh! they would hear us. —the backs of their heads facing us— The stream continues its motion of a hound running over rough ground.
Trees vanish—reappear—vanish: detached dance of gnomes—as a talk dodging remarks, glows and fades. —The unseen power of words— And now that a few of the moves are clear the first desire is to fling oneself out at the side into the other dance, to other music.
Peer Gynt. Rip Van Winkle. Diana. If I were young I would try a new alignment— alight nimbly from the car, Good-bye!— Childhood companions linked two and two criss-cross: four, three, two, one. Back into self, tentacles withdrawn. Feel about in warm self-flesh. Since childhood, since childhood! Childhood is a toad in the garden, a happy toad. All toads are happy and belong in gardens. A toad to Diana!
Lean forward. Punch the steerman behind the ear. Twirl the wheel! Over the edge! Screams! Crash! The end. I sit above my head— a little removed—or a thin wash of rain on the roadway —I am never afraid when he is driving,— interposes new direction, rides us sidewise, unforseen into the ditch! All threads cut! Death! Black. The end. The very end—
I would sit separate weighing a small red handful: the dirt of these parts, sliding mists sheeting the alders against the touch of fingers creeping to mine. All stuff of the blind emotions. But—stirred, the eye seizes for the first time—The eye awake!— anything, a dirt bank with green stars of scrawny weed flattened upon it under a weight of air—For the first time!— or a yawning depth: Big! Swim around in it, through it— all directions and find vitreous seawater stuff— God how I love you!—or, as I say, a plunge into the ditch. The End. I sit examining my red handful. Balancing —this—in and out—agh.
Love you? It's a fire in the blood, willy-nilly! It's the sun coming up in the morning. Ha, but it's the grey moon too, already up in the morning. You are slow. Men are not friends where it concerns a woman? Fighters. Playfellows. White round thighs! Youth! Sighs—! It's the fillip of novelty. It's—
Mountains. Elephants humping along against the sky—indifferent to light withdrawing its tattered shreds, worn out with embraces. It's the fillip of novelty. It's a fire in the blood.
Oh get a flannel shirt], white flannel or pongee. You'd look so well! I married you because I liked your nose. I wanted you! I wanted you in spite of all they'd say—
Rain and light, mountain and rain, rain and river. Will you love me always? —A car overturned and two crushed bodies under it.—Always! Always! And the white moon already up. White. Clean. All the colors. A good head, backed by the eye—awake! backed by the emotions—blind— River and mountain, light and rain—or rain, rock, light, trees—divided: rain-light counter rocks-trees or trees counter rain-light-rocks or—
Myriads of counter processions crossing and recrossing, regaining the advantage, buying here, selling there —You are sold cheap everywhere in town!— lingering, touching fingers, withdrawing gathering forces into blares, hummocks, peaks and rivers—rivers meeting rock —I wish that you were lying there dead and I sitting here beside you.— It's the grey moon—over and over. It's the clay of these parts.
These are the romance poems that appealed me quite a bit - in a way, they are my personal choice from amongst a host of them.
I'll keep adding more to them as and when I come across the romance poems that touch me deep.
Keep checking this romance poems page, if you please!
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