Best Famous Always Love You Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Always Love You poems. This is a select list of the best famous Always Love You poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Always Love You poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of always love you poems.

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• All Famous Always Love You Poems

Written by Federico García Lorca | Little Viennese Waltz In Vienna there are ten little girls, a shoulder for death to cry on, and a forest of dried pigeons. There is a fragment of tomorrow in the museum of winter frost. There is a thousand-windowed dance hall. Ay, ay, ay, ay! Take this close-mouthed waltz. Little waltz, little waltz, little waltz, of itself of death, and of brandy that dips its tail in the sea. I love you, I love you, I love you, with the armchair and the book of death, down the melancholy hallway, in the iris's darkened garret, Ay, ay, ay, ay! Take this broken-waisted waltz. In Vienna there are four mirrors in which your mouth and the ehcoes play. There is a death for piano that paints little boys blue. There are beggars on the roof. There are fresh garlands of tears. Ay, ay, ay, ay! Take this waltz that dies in my arms. Because I love you, I love you, my love, in the attic where the children play, dreaming ancient lights of Hungary through the noise, the balmy afternoon, seeing sheep and irises of snow through the dark silence of your forehead Ay, ay, ay, ay! Take this " I will always love you" waltz In Vienna I will dance with you in a costume with a river's head. See how the hyacinths line my banks! I will leave my mouth between your legs, my soul in a photographs and lilies, and in the dark wake of your footsteps, my love, my love, I will have to leave violin and grave, the waltzing ribbons

Written by Ben Jonson | Piccolo Valzer Viennese A Vienna ci sono dieci ragazze, una spalla dove piange la morte e un bosco di colombe disseccate. C'e' un frammento del mattino nel museo della brina. C'è un salone con mille vetrate. Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Prendi questo valzer con la bocca chiusa. Questo valzer, questo valzer, questo valzer, di sì, di morte e di cognac che si bagna la coda nel mare. Io ti amo, io ti amo, io ti amo con la poltrona e con il libro morto, nel malinconico corridoio, nell'oscura soffitta del giglio, nel nostro letto della luna, nella danza che sogna la tartaruga. Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Prendi questo valzer dalla spezzata cintura. A Vienna ci sono quattro specchi, vi giocano la tua bocca e gli echi. C'è una morte per pianoforte che tinge d'azzurro i giovanotti. Ci sono mendichi sui terrazzi. E fresche ghirlande di pianto. Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Prendi questo valzer che spira fra le mie braccia. Perchè io ti amo, ti amo, amore mio, nella soffitta dove giocano i bambini, sognando vecchie luci d'Ungheria nel mormorio di una sera mite, vedendo agnelli e gigli di neve nell'oscuro silenzio delle tue tempie. Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Ahi! Prendi questo valzer del "Ti amo per sempre". A Vienna ballerò con te con un costume che abbia la testa di fiume. Guarda queste mie rive di giacinti! Lascerò la mia bocca tra le tue gambe, la mia anima in foto e fiordalisi, e nelle onde oscure del tuo passo io voglio, amore mio, amore mio, lasciare, violino e sepolcro, i nastri del valzer. English Translation Little Viennese Waltz In Vienna there are ten little girls a shoulder for death to cry on and a forest of dried pigeons. There is a fragment of tomorrow in the museum of winter frost. There is a thousand-windowed dance hall. Ay, ay, ay, ay! Take this close-mouthed waltz. Little waltz, little waltz, little waltz, of itself, of death, and of brandy that dips its tail in the sea. I love you, I love you, I love you, with the armchair and the book of death down the melancholy hallway, in the iris's dark garret, in our bed that was once the moon's bed, and in that dance the turtle dreamed of. Ay, ay, ay, ay! Take this broken-waisted waltz In Vienna there are four mirrors in which your mouth and the echoes play. There is a death for piano that paints the little boys blue. There are beggars on the roof. There are fresh garlands of tears. Aye, ay, ay, ay! Take this waltz that dies in my arms. Because I love you, I love you, my love, in the attic where children play, dreaming ancient lights of Hungary through the noise, the balmy afternoon, seeing sheep and irises of snow through the dark silence of your forehead. Ay, ay, ay ay! Take this "I will always love you" waltz. In Vienna I will dance with you in a costume with a river's head. See how the hyacinths line my banks! I will leave my mouth between your legs, my soul in photographs and lilies, and in the dark wake of your footsteps, my love, my love, I will have to leave violin and grave, the waltzing ribbons.

Written by Francesco Petrarch | Ballata IV [Pg 60] BALLATA IV. Perchè quel che mi trasse ad amar prima. HE WILL ALWAYS LOVE HER, THOUGH DENIED THE SIGHT OF HER. Though cruelty denies my viewThose charms which led me first to love;To passion yet will I be true,Nor shall my will rebellious prove.Amid the curls of golden hairThat wave those beauteous temples round,Cupid spread craftily the snareWith which my captive heart he bound:And from those eyes he caught the rayWhich thaw'd the ice that fenced my breast,Chasing all other thoughts away,With brightness suddenly imprest.But now that hair of sunny gleam,Ah me! is ravish'd from my sight;Those beauteous eyes withdraw their beam,And change to sadness past delight.A glorious death by all is prized;Tis death alone shall break my chain:Oh! be Love's timid wail despised.Lovers should nobly suffer pain. Nott. Though barr'd from all which led me first to loveBy coldness or caprice,Not yet from its firm bent can passion cease!The snare was set amid those threads of gold,To which Love bound me fast;And from those bright eyes melted the long coldWithin my heart that pass'd;So sweet the spell their sudden splendour cast,Its single memory stillDeprives my soul of every other will.But now, alas! from me of that fine hairIs ravish'd the dear sight;The lost light of those twin stars, chaste as fair,Saddens me in her flight;But, since a glorious death wins honour bright,By death, and not through grief,Love from such chain shall give at last relief. Macgregor.

Written by Eugene Field | Two idylls from bion the smyrnean I Once a fowler, young and artless, To the quiet greenwood came; Full of skill was he and heartless In pursuit of feathered game. And betimes he chanced to see Eros perching in a tree. "What strange bird is that, I wonder?" Thought the youth, and spread his snare; Eros, chuckling at the blunder, Gayly scampered here and there. Do his best, the simple clod Could not snare the agile god! Blubbering, to his aged master Went the fowler in dismay, And confided his disaster With that curious bird that day; "Master, hast thou ever heard Of so ill-disposed a bird?" "Heard of him? Aha, most truly!" Quoth the master with a smile; "And thou too, shall know him duly-- Thou art young, but bide awhile, And old Eros will not fly From thy presence by and by! "For when thou art somewhat older That same Eros thou didst see, More familiar grown and bolder, Shall become acquaint with thee; And when Eros comes thy way Mark my word, he comes to stay!" II Once came Venus to me, bringing Eros where my cattle fed-- "Teach this little boy your singing, Gentle herdsman," Venus said. I was young--I did not know Whom it was that Venus led-- That was many years ago! In a lusty voice but mellow-- Callow pedant! I began To instruct the little fellow In the mysteries known to man; Sung the noble cithern's praise, And the flute of dear old Pan, And the lyre that Hermes plays. But he paid no heed unto me-- Nay, that graceless little boy Coolly plotted to undo me-- With his songs of tender joy; And my pedantry o'erthrown, Eager was I to employ His sweet ritual for mine own! Ah, these years of ours are fleeting! Yet I have not vainly wrought, Since to-day I am repeating What dear lessons Eros taught; Love, and always love, and then-- Counting all things else for naught-- Love and always love again!

Written by Emily Dickinson | That I did always love That I did always love I bring thee Proof That till I loved I never lived -- Enough -- That I shall love alway -- I argue thee That love is life -- And life hath Immortality -- This -- dost thou doubt -- Sweet -- Then have I Nothing to show But Calvary --

Written by Edna St. Vincent Millay | Pity Me Not Because The Light Of Day Pity me not because the light of day At close of day no longer walks the sky; Pity me not for beauties passed away From field and thicket as the the year goes by; Pity me not the waning of the moon, Nor that the ebbing tide goes out to sea, Nor that a man's desire is hushed so soon, And you no longer look with love on me. This have I known always: Love is no more Than the wide blossom which the wind assails, Than the great tide that treads the shifting shore, Strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales: Pity me that the heart is slow to learn What the swift mind beholds at ever turn.

Written by Francesco Petrarch | Sonnet LXIV SONNET LXIV. Io amai sempre, ed amo forte ancora. HE LOVES, AND WILL ALWAYS LOVE, THE SPOT AND THE HOUR IN WHICH HE FIRST BECAME ENAMOURED OF LAURA. I always loved, I love sincerely yet,And to love more from day to day shall learn,The charming spot where oft in grief I turnWhen Love's severities my bosom fret:My mind to love the time and hour is setWhich taught it each low care aside to spurn;She too, of loveliest face, for whom I burnBids me her fair life love and sin forget.Who ever thought to see in friendship join'd,On all sides with my suffering heart to cope,The gentle enemies I love so well?Love now is paramount my heart to bind,And, save that with desire increases hope,Dead should I lie alive where I would dwell. Macgregor.