Valentine by John Fuller
The things about you I
appreciate may seem indelicate:
I’d like to find you
in the shower
And chase the soap for
half an hour.
I’d like to have you
in my power and see your eyes dilate.
I’d like to have your
back to scour
And other parts to
lubricate.
Sometimes I feel it is
my fate
To chase you screaming
up a tower or make you cower
By asking you to
differentiate Nietzsche from Schopenhauer.
I’d like to
successfully guess your weight and win you at a féte.
I’d like to offer you
a flower.
Another Valentine by
Wendy Cope
Today we are obliged
to be romantic
And think of yet
another valentine.
We know the rules and
we are both pedantic:
Today’s the day we
have to be romantic.
Our love is old and
sure, not new and frantic.
You know I’m yours and
I know you are mine.
And saying that has
made me feel romantic,
My dearest love, my
darling valentine.
A Red Red Rose by
Robert Burns
O my Luve’s like a
red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in
June:
O my Luve’s like the
melodie,
That’s sweetly play’d
in tune.
As fair art thou, my
bonie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee
still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang
dry.
Till a’ the seas gang
dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’
the sun;
And I will luve thee
still, my dear,
While the sands o’
life shall run.
And fare-thee-weel, my
only Luve!
And fare-thee-weel, a
while!
And I will come again,
my Luve,
Tho’ ’twere ten
thousand mile!
A
Valentine to My Wife by Eugene Field
Accept, dear girl, this
little token,
And if between the
lines you seek,
You'll find the love
I've often spoken
The love my dying lips
shall speak.
Our little ones are
making merry
O'er am'rous ditties
rhymed in jest,
But in these words
(though awkward very)
The genuine article's
expressed.
You are as fair and
sweet and tender,
Dear brown-eyed little
sweetheart mine,
As when, a callow
youth and slender,
I asked to be your
Valentine.
What though these
years of ours be fleeting?
What though the years
of youth be flown?
I'll mock old Tempus
with repeating,
"I love my love and
her alone!"
And when I fall before
his reaping,
And when my stuttering
speech is dumb,
Think not my love is
dead or sleeping,
But that it waits for
you to come.
So take, dear love,
this little token,
And if there speaks in
any line
The sentiment I'd fain
have spoken,
Say, will you kiss
your Valentine?
