There's no denying it - winter is well and truly on the way. While I'm sad to see summer go, I'm looking forward to open fires, fresh winter mornings and snuggling up with a good book, like Penguin’s Poems
for Love - perfect for warming heart and soul.
Laura Barber, who selected the poems for the book, shares with us her favourites for every occasion...
For the person you secretly adore: William Blake, The Sick Rose
"Accompanied by a deep red rose (de-thorned and preferably not showing signs of mildew) this poem could be the perfect way of revealing your feelings to the one you're infatuated with," says Laura.
O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
For the person you've only just realised you fancy: Christina G. Rossetti, "I wish I could remember that first day.
"This poem brilliantly captures that feeling of wanting to go back in time to capture and cherish the small scraps of memory that suddenly become significant and special when love has taken you by
surprise."
I wish I could remember that first day,
First hour, first moment of your meeting me,
If bright or dim the season, it might be
Summer or Winter for aught I can say;
So unrecorded did it slip away,
So blind was I to see and to foresee,
So dull to mark the budding of my tree
That would not blossom yet for many a May.
If only I could recollect it, such
A day of days! I let it come and go
As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow;
It seemed to mean so little, meant so much;
If only now I could recall that touch,
First touch of hand in hand – Did one but now!
For your unrequited love: Edmund Spenser, from Amoretti, xxx
"There's nothing more tormenting than being swept off your feet by your emotions, only to find that the other person is still standing. This poem expresses that frustration and also holds out a sliver of
hope that love might work its magic on your beloved too."
My love is like to ice, and I to fire:
how comes it then that this her cold so great
is not dissolv'd through my so hot desire,
but harder grows the more I her entreat?
Or how comes it that my exceeding heat
is not delayed by her heart frozen cold,
but that I burn much more in boiling sweat,
and feel my flames augmented manifold?
What more miraculous thing may be told
that fire, which all things melt, should harden ice;
and ice, which is congealed with senseless cold,
should kindle fire by wonderful device?
Such is the power of love in gentle mind
that it can alter all the course of kind.
Click here to buy Penguin's Poems for Love
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