I thought it would be fun to share some love poems . . . for the season (Valentine's Day is fast approaching) . . . and because I think this particular song got buried in Link the Lyrics, and I want to hear RE's comments. Every time I listen to this song I laugh wryly at why the lyricist fell in love.

Why to love a girl according to Andy M. Stewart's "The Errant Apprentice"

When I was a young apprentice and less than compus mentis (sp?)
Her ringlets so entwined me, Aphrodite's smile did blind me
Cupid's arrow struck behind me, And her father owned a pub
It was there I met my nemesis, in her father's licensed premises
Like a seraphim of Genesis sat Mary Ann Maguire.
Arrayed in fine apparel, astride a porter barrel
She looked the sort of girl that would fill you with desire.

(This song goes on to explain how she ended up breaking his heart, but I felt that you all would appreciate this kind of logic for choosing a mate - especially those lovers of beer. lol)

What other verses do you enjoy that explain why one person loves another? There must be thousands . . .

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..."

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Oh, Jerry, I love that poem!

CW, thank you for starting this wonderful thread. It made me go to my beloved Stevenson "The Home Book of Verse," which I haven't read in awhile. There are many wonderful ones on love, but I chose this one:

O, Love is Not a Summer Mood

O, Love is not a summer mood,
Nor flying phantom of the brain,
Nor youthful fever of the blood,
Nor dream, nor fate, nor circumstance,
Love is not born of blinded chance,
Nor bred in simple ignorance.

Love is the flower of maidenhood;
Love is the fruit of mortal pain;
And she hath winter in her blood.
True love is steadfast as the skies,
And once alight, she never flies;
And love is strong, and love is wise.

~ Richard Watson Gilder [1844-1909]

Explanations of Love
by Carl Sandburg (1878–1967)

There is a place where love begins and a place
where love ends.

There is a touch of two hands that foils all dictionaries.

There is a look of eyes fierce as a big Bethlehem open hearth furnace
or a little green-fire acetylene torch.

There are single careless bywords portentous as a big bend
in the Mississippi River.

Hands, eyes, bywords - out of these
love makes battlegrounds and workshops.

There is a pair of shoes love wears
and the coming is a mystery.

There is a warning love sends and the cost of it is never written
till long afterward.

There are explanations of love in all languages
and not one found wiser than this:

There is a place where love begins and a place where love ends -
and love asks nothing.

Tinman

Oh how nice, Tinman - thanks - and Kalleh and Jerry, too! I knew this would be a good one!

Here's a newer favorite of mine:

Love Sonnet XVII
~ Pablo Neruda

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are loved,
secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn't bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don't know any other way of loving

but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close.

Maya Angelou moves me like no other modern poet...

"Refusal"

Beloved,
In what other lives or lands
Have I known your lips
Your Hands
Your Laughter brave
Irreverent.
Those sweet excesses that
I do adore.
What surety is there
That we will meet again,
On other worlds some
Future time undated.
I defy my body's haste.
Without the promise
Of one more sweet encounter
I will not deign to die

Without the promise of one more sweet encounter, I will not deign to die.

Boy, that is magnificent! I've read others by Angelou, but don't recall that one. Thanks, Jo!

Today, with the children, I sang the following:

I love you a bushel and a peck
A bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck
A hug around the neck and a barrel and a heap
A barrel and a heap and I'm talkin in my sleep
About you (about you)
I love you a bushel and a peck,
You bet your pretty neck I do!

Ahh - from Verdi . . .

Ah si, ben mio . . .

Ah yes, my love, when I am yours and you are my wife
I shall be braver, my arm will be stronger.
But if it is written in the book of my destiny
that I should be among the fallen,
run through by enemy steel,
with my last breath my thoughts will fly to you
and death will come to me only
that I should preced you into heaven.

This is even more amazing when sung by Andrea Bocelli . . .