Irish Love Poems: Expressions of Romance and Passion

The Irish literary tradition is renowned for its ability to capture the essence of love in the most exquisite and heartfelt verses. In this exploration, we invite you to immerse yourself in the world of Irish love poems. These twelve enchanting verses not only convey themes of romance and passion but also offer a glimpse into the rich tapestry of Irish culture and its profound connection to the language of love.

"Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light, 

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths 

Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet: 

But I, being poor, have only my dreams; 

I have spread my dreams under your feet; 

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."

"Your eyes that once were never weary of mine 

Are bowed in sorrow under pendulous lids, 

Because our love is waning.

And then She: 

Put the fan in my hand: you have kissed it lately, and I'll kiss it, 

So.

That is how 

The manufacturers put it: for a kiss 

Just set the vibrating disc between the poles, 

And... embrassez! But we old lovers, 

I and She, 

Have had our lips frosted ever since we said good-bye.

And She: 

Oh, tell me about the great engine. We had steam. 

One thousand miles an hour it did for us, 

And easy, too. 

Shall I say, after a hundred good-byes, one? 

Shall I say, after a thousand?

Here, if you will: 

One drop, one word from you, and Me."

"Know, that I would accounted be 

True brother of a company 

That sang, to sweeten Ireland's wrong,

Ballad and story, rann and song; 

Nor be I any less of them, 

Because the red-rose-bordered hem 

Of her, whose history began 

Before God made the angelic clan, 

Trails all about the written page. 

When Time began to rant and rage 

The measure of her flying feet 

Made Ireland's heart begin to beat; 

And Time bade all his candles flare 

To light a measure here and there; 

And may the thoughts of Ireland brood 

Upon a measured quietude.

Nor may I less be counted one 

With Davis, Mangan, Ferguson, 

Because, to him who ponders well, 

My rhymes more than their rhyming tell

Of things discovered in the deep, 

Where only body's laid asleep. 

For the elemental creatures go 

About my table to and fro, 

That hurry from unmeasured mind 

To rant and rage in flood and wind; 

Yet he who treads in measured ways 

May surely barter gaze for gaze. 

When all the rest have gone to bed, 

And all their antics overhead 

Are but close bundles or wide rags, 

A man, yet unaware of crags 

Between him and the raving stars, 

May find unguessed-of solitude."

"Silent, O Moyle! be the roar of thy water; 

Break not, ye breezes, your chain of repose; 

While murmuring mournfully, Lir's lonely daughter 

Tells to the night-star her tale of woes.

When shall the swan, her death-note singing, 

Sleep with wings in darkness furl'd? 

When will Heaven, its sweet bell ringing, 

Call my spirit from this stormy world?

Sadly, O Moyle, to thy winter-wave weeping 

Fate bids me languish long ages away; 

Yet still in her darkness doth Erin lie sleeping, 

Still doth the pure light its dawning delay.

When will that day-star, mildly springing, 

Warm our isle with peace and love? 

When will Heaven, its sweet bell ringing, 

Call my spirit to the fields above?"

"The trees are in their autumn beauty, 

The woodland paths are dry, 

Under the October twilight the water 

Mirrors a still sky; 

Upon the brimming water among the stones 

Are nine-and-fifty swans.

The nineteenth autumn has come upon me

Since I first made my count; 

I saw, before I had well finished, 

All suddenly mount 

And scatter wheeling in great broken rings 

Upon their clamorous wings.

I have looked upon those brilliant creatures, 

And now my heart is sore. 

All's changed since I, hearing at twilight, 

The first time on this shore, 

The bell-beat of their wings above my head, 

Trod with a lighter tread.

Unwearied still, lover by lover, 

They paddle in the cold 

Companionable streams or climb the air; 

Their hearts have not grown old; 

Passion or conquest, wander where they will, 

Attend upon them still.

But now they drift on the still water,

Mysterious, beautiful; 

Among what rushes will they build, 

By what lake's edge or pool 

Delight men's eyes when I awake some day 

To find they have flown away?"

"This classic poem by Lord Byron is not Irish in origin but resonates with the themes of beauty and love that are universal and appreciated in Irish culture.

She walks in beauty, like the night 

Of cloudless climes and starry skies; 

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes; 

Thus mellowed to that tender light 

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less, 

Had half impaired the nameless grace 

Which waves in every raven tress, 

Or softly lightens o'er her face; 

Where thoughts serenely sweet express 

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek and o'er that brow 

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, 

The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 

But tell of days in goodness spent, 

A mind at peace with all below, 

A heart whose love is innocent!"

"The love which my bosom retains 

Shall awake and be vocal to thee, 

And the soul, that its current restrains, 

Shall flow like the waves of the sea.

Then the dreams of my boyhood shall seem 

Young love-wakings that never will end, 

And each bright eye that haunts them 

Shall be my eye's beautiful friend! "

In the realm of poetry, Irish love poems stand as timeless treasures, weaving tales of devotion, longing, and affection that continue to resonate with readers across the globe. Their power lies not only in the lyrical beauty of their words but also in the emotions they evoke and the universality of love they portray. As we conclude our journey through these enchanting verses, may they inspire us to celebrate and embrace the romance that enriches our lives, drawing us closer to the heart of love itself.