Close Close Previous Poem Next Poem Follow Us on Twitter! Poem of the Day Award Follow Us on Facebook! Follow Us on Twitter! Follow Us on Pinterest! Follow Our Youtube Channel! Follow Our RSS Feed! envelope star quill

Love Hurts Poems

Table of Contents

  1. Query by Georgia Douglas Johnson
  2. Return by Jessie Belle Rittenhouse
  3. Paradox by Jessie Belle Rittenhouse
  4. Love lies Bleeding by Christina Rossetti
  5. The Revelation by William Francis Barnard
  6. Change by Appleton Oaksmith
  7. Highland Mary by Robert Burns
  8. Reproach by Ruby Archer
  9. To Yesterday by Ruby Archer
  10. Love's Defect by Scottie McKenzie Frasier
  11. Life's Scars by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
  12. My true love hath my heart by Sir Philip Sidney
  13. The Broken Heart by Eliza Wolcott

  1. Query

    by Georgia Douglas Johnson

    Is she the sage who will not sip
    The cup love presses to her lip?
    Or she who drinks the mad cup dry,
    And turns with smiling face—to die?

  2. Return

    by Jessie Belle Rittenhouse

    You came again, but silence
    Had fallen on your heart,
    And in your eyes were visions
    That held us still apart.

    And now I go on hearing
    The words you did not say,
    And the kiss you did not give me
    Burns on my lips to-day.

  3. Paradox

    by Jessie Belle Rittenhouse

    I went out to the woods to-day
    To hide away from you,
    From you a thousand miles away—
    But you came, too.

    And yet the old dull thought would stay,
    And all my heart benumb—
    If you were but a mile away
    You would not come.

  4. Love lies Bleeding

    by Christina Rossetti

    Love that is dead and buried, yesterday
    Out of his grave rose up before my face,
    No recognition in his look, no trace
    Of memory in his eyes dust-dimmed and grey.
    While I, remembering, found no word to say,
    But felt my quickened heart leap in its place;
    Caught afterglow thrown back from long set days,
    Caught echoes of all music passed away.
    Was this indeed to meet?—I mind me yet
    In youth we met when hope and love were quick,
    We parted with hope dead, but love alive:
    I mind me how we parted then heart sick,
    Remembering, loving, hopeless, weak to strive:—
    Was this to meet? Not so, we have not met.

  5. The Revelation

    by William Francis Barnard

    The bruisèd rose shall yield more sweet
    Than erst it could impart;
    And love shall fill, as is most meet,
    A bruisèd heart.

    Through its own woe the heart shall learn
    The sorrows of the earth;—
    Thenceforth its life with love shall burn:
    It knows the worth.

  6. Change

    by Appleton Oaksmith

    My lady-love so cold has grown
    I cannot meet her eye
    But that my heart sinks like a stone,
    And I but wish to die.
    There was a time when her dear glance
    Was warmer than the sun;
    But now my love hath little chance
    For hope to dwell upon.

    "Why hath she changed?" I ask the winds
    Which pass me kindly by;
    But each dead leaf the cause reminds,
    And all things make reply.
    I wander in the woods at eve,
    And watch the dead leaves fall,
    And chide myself that I should grieve
    For what doth come to all.

    "Change, change," is written everywhere
    Upon the earth and sky;
    We breathe it with life's morning air,
    We live it when we die.
    Then wherefore should I grieve that she
    Acteth so well her part,
    Since greater change can never be
    Than in a woman's heart!

  7. Highland Mary

    by Robert Burns

    Ye banks, and braes, and streams around
    The castle o' Montgomery,
    Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
    Your waters never drumlie!
    There Simmer first unfald her robes,
    And there the langest tarry:
    For there I took the last Fareweel
    O' my sweet Highland Mary.

    How sweetly bloom'd the gay, green birk,
    How rich the hawthorn's blossom;
    As underneath their fragrant shade,
    I clasp'd her to my bosom!
    The golden Hours, on angel wings,
    Flew o'er me and my Dearie;
    For dear to me as light and life
    Was my sweet Highland Mary.

    Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace,
    Our parting was fu' tender;
    And pledging aft to meet again,
    We tore oursels asunder:
    But Oh! fell Death's untimely frost,
    That nipt my Flower sae early!
    Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
    That wraps my Highland Mary!

    O pale, pale now, those rosy lips,
    I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!
    And clos'd for ay the sparkling glance,
    That dwalt on me sae kindly!
    And mouldering now in silent dust,
    That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
    But still within my bosom's core
    Shall live my Highland Mary.

  8. Reproach

    by Ruby Archer

    He came in ruddy anger, and he flung
    Quick, deeply-stabbing words, nor measured wounds,
    Nor minded if a loving heart were stung.
    My sobs uprose. I pressed them back to bounds.
    Oh, could he know, his briefest look unkind
    Were more than ample punishment to find,—
    Reserve alone had all my bosom wrung.

  9. To Yesterday

    by Ruby Archer

    O Yesterday, you saw him. In your warm
    Sweet light we wandered idly, happily.
    Unto your deep of blue his eyes were lent,
    And through your moments lingered yet his voice.
    Bide near me, Yesterday. You know of him;
    And I may turn to you—now he is gone—
    Remind you of a glance, a word, a touch,
    A thousand glints of soul revealed to soul
    And thus defer the thought of poor To-day.

  10. Love's Defect

    by Scottie McKenzie Frasier

    I can forgive the years for robbing me of youth,
    I can forgive man for taking my faith and deceiving truth.
    I can forgive friends for being ungrateful and unkind,
    I can't forgive Life for giving me love and making love blind.

  11. Love Me At Last

    by Alice Corbin Henderson

    Love me at last, or if you will not,
    Leave me;
    Hard words could never, as these half-words,
    Grieve me:
    Love me at last—or leave me.

    Love me at last, or let the last word uttered
    Be but your own;
    Love me, or leave me—as a cloud, a vapor,
    Or a bird flown.
    Love me at last—I am but sliding water
    Over a stone.

  12. Life's Scars

    by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

    They say the world is round, and yet
    I often think it square,
    So many little hurts we get
    From corners here and there.
    But one great truth in life I've found,
    While journeying to the West—

    The only folks who really wound
    Are those we love the best.

    The man you thoroughly despise
    Can rouse your wrath, 'tis true;
    Annoyance in your heart will rise
    At things mere strangers do;
    But those are only passing ills;
    This rule all lives will prove;
    The rankling wound which aches and thrills
    Is dealt by hands we love.

    The choicest garb, the sweetest grace,
    Are oft to strangers shown;
    The careless mien, the frowning face,
    Are given to our own.
    We flatter those we scarcely know,
    We please the fleeting guest,
    And deal full many a thoughtless blow
    To those who love us best.

    Love does not grow on every tree,
    Nor true hearts yearly bloom.
    Alas for those who only see
    This cut across a tomb!
    But, soon or late, the fact grows plain
    To all through sorrow's test:
    The only folks who give us pain
    Are those we love the best.

  13. My true love hath my heart

    by Sir Philip Sidney

    My true love hath my heart, and I have his,
    By just exchange one for the other given.
    I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss;
    There never was a better bargain driven.
    His heart in me keeps him and me in one;
    My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides;
    He loves my heart, for once it was his own;
    I cherish his, because in me it bides.
    His heart his wound received from my sight;
    For as from me on him his hurt did light
    So still methought in me his hurt did smart:
    Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss;
    My true love hath my heart, and I have his.

  14. The Broken Heart

    by Eliza Wolcott

    Can I forget thee, Walter!—no,
    For whom my first fond sigh arose;
    Then how canst thou forget me so?
    'Tis this that fills my cup with wo.

    Yes, Walter, I would still be thine,
    And wish that we no more might sever;
    This thought 's too dear, 'tis too divine,
    My Walter's heart is constant ever.

    But I will love, till death's cold sod
    Shall wrap me underneath the gloom;
    My woes I'll spread before my God,
    And there my prayers for thee shall bloom.

    Canst thou forget me, Walter, say?
    Will Margaret's love forgotten live?
    O, ask the wave's unsteady way,
    Canst thou a better moral give.

    Though happiness is short, 'twas ours—
    Too dear for me, too fond to last;
    When thou wert mine and I was yours—
    But must I say 'tis gone, 'tis past!

    But O, when days with me are o'er,
    And silent in the grave I lie,
    O then, when Margaret is no more,
    Weep o'er her tomb, breathe there one sigh.

Related Poems

Follow Us On: