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20 Short Wedding Poems
20 Short Wedding Poems
If hours be years the twain are blest,
For now they solace swift desire
By bonds of every bond the best,
If hours be years. The twain are blest
Do eastern stars slope never west,
Nor pallid ashes follow fire:
If hours be years the twain are blest,
For now they solace swift desire.
Author: Thomas Hardy
God with honour hang your head,
Groom, and grace you, bride, your bed
With lissome scions, sweet scions,
Out of hallowed bodies bred.
Each be other's comfort kind:
Déep, déeper than divined,
Divine charity, dear charity,
Fast you ever, fast bind.
Then let the March tread our ears:
I to him turn with tears
Who to wedlock, his wonder wedlock,
Déals tríumph and immortal years.
Author: Gerard Manley Hopkins
Baby you the key to my heart
The love to my soul
I hear your voice every were i go
When i close my eye i see you in my vision
My intuition setting like stint version
I know my mind never play tricks on me
That how i know you the one for me
I swear i feel it, Honestly
I dont know if you have a thing for me
Dang I speak blasphemy
I know i anit the man you lookinh for
But i you give a chance
Ill be the man you always dream of
The things
little things
I can adore
keep me wanting
to
reach a shore
of you,
a ending place
beginning door
through
a key hole
climb
see you traced
in life
in private space
Like a feather
We are twined togther
Like a kite
We will take a long flight
And see a beautiful sight
Like a bird
We will glide through the skies
And there will be no lies
To disguise our eyes
And fly from above and below
We will bestow our love forevermore
LIke the sea
There will be no ending and no beginning
To the current that moves us
Through the troubled waters
To the waves that smoothes and soothes us
Through the end of our days
LIke I saw you from the beginning
My love for you will not have an ending
When I meet you
Will you make us two
I promise always to be true
Ever faithful, through and through
Walk hand in hand when troubles anew
Down wrong paths, your goals to pursue
The bond we have, will always accrue
Aisle parade for our wedded debut
If ever I am old, and all alone,
I shall have killed one grief, at any rate;
For then, thank God, I shall not have to wait
Much longer for the sheaves that I have sown.
The devil only knows what I have done,
But here I am, and here are six or eight
Good friends, who most ingenuously prate
About my songs to such and such a one.
But everything is all askew to-night,—
As if the time were come, or almost come,
For their untenanted mirage of me
To lose itself and crumble out of sight,
Like a tall ship that floats above the foam
A little while, and then breaks utterly.
Author: Edwin Arlington Robinson
Though we have no expectations
we're committed to our love
as we stand upon life's altar
be for the Lord above
O blend us Lord together
'neath the heaven's and sun
each heart unto the other
'till we become as one
And in thy Mighty Power Lord
set angels 'round about
to seal our love forever
and to keep the world without
Then across the mighty heavens write
for all the world to see
all you have placed within our hearts
a loves that comes from thee
It's something meant to cherish,
And is guarded, Oh, so well.
The contents one will find inside
Reflect this foreign cell.
On its door contains a lock
Made entirely of solid gold.
Only one is able to open it
And find treasures unforetold.
Some hold tightly to its value
And they keep it close to heart,
While others may give it freely
Right off from the very start.
The thought to hold onto to
Guide you through each day,
Is to wait for that treasure
Of equal value, to exchange
On one's wedding day.
A FEAST was in a village spread,--
It was a wedding-day, they said.
The parlour of the inn I found,
And saw the couples whirling round,
Each lass attended by her lad,
And all seem'd loving, blithe, and glad;
But on my asking for the bride,
A fellow with a stare, replied:
"'Tis not the place that point to raise!
We're only dancing in her honour;
We now have danced three nights and days,
And not bestowed one thought upon her."
* * * *
Whoe'er in life employs his eyes
Such cases oft will recognise.
1821.*
Author: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Arriving late, I find
the service almost done.
They're waiting at the altar,
the wiener and the bun.
All ears now strain, to hear
the parson's monolog,
"And by the powers vested in me,
I now pronounce you one hot dog."
She wed a wealthy man named Harry.
Now, people call her greedy Mary.
It really isn't funny;
She married for his money.
Holy matri-monetary!
The deed has been done.
Our new life has begun.
Single life won't be missed.
I'm filled with wedded bliss.
A wondrous new beginning.
Inside my heart is singing.
I'm never looking back.
You've made my soul relax.
Each new day we grow together.
Everyday has sunny weather.
I've never known love as pure as this.
I feel drunk and full of wedded bliss.
With you, I have no reason to doubt.
You make me whole, inside and out.
Facing the future, together we stand.
Walking life's roads, hand in hand.
Each strips his own skin
Each bares his own constellation
Which has never seen the night
Each fills his skin with rocks
And plays with it
Lit by his own stars
Who doesn't stop till dawn
Who doesn't bat an eyelid or fall
Earns his own skin
(This game is rarely played)
Author: Vasko Popa
TWO PSECIAL PEOPLE
ONE SPECIAL DAY
A DREAM TO SHARE
ALONG LIFES WAY
TWO AS ONE
ONE LIFE FROM TWO
A SPECAIL DREAM
OF LOVE COME TRUE
TWO HEARTS UNITED
FOREVER TOGETHER
St. John tells how, at Cana's wedding feast,
The water-pots poured wine in such amount
That by his sober count
There were a hundred gallons at the least.
It made no earthly sense, unless to show
How whatsoever love elects to bless
Brims to a sweet excess
That can without depletion overflow.
Which is to say that what love sees is true;
That this world's fullness is not made but found.
Life hungers to abound
And pour its plenty out for such as you.
Now, if your loves will lend an ear to mine,
I toast you both, good son and dear new daughter.
May you not lack for water,
And may that water smack of Cana's wine.
Author: Richard Wilbur
My wedding-ring lies in a basket
as if at the bottom of a well.
Nothing will come to fish it back up
and onto my finger again.
It lies
among keys to abandoned houses,
nails waiting to be needed and hammered
into some wall,
telephone numbers with no names attached,
idle paperclips.
It can't be given away
for fear of bringing ill-luck.
It can't be sold
for the marriage was good in its own
time, though that time is gone.
Could some artificer
beat into it bright stones, transform it
into a dazzling circlet no one could take
for solemn betrothal or to make promises
living will not let them keep? Change it
into a simple gift I could give in friendship?
Author: Denise Levertov