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It is often said that the true subject of the lyric poem is love. Around 600 BC or so, Sappho,

accompanying herself on the lyre, ould have sung her passionate, radically personal, love poetry

to her island audience of studious young omen. In our !"st Century, one of the most popular

readings at eddings and civil partnerships is Sha#espeare$s Sonnet C%&"' ()et me not to the

marriage of true minds admit impediment$. As St. &alentine$s *ay approaches, our boo#shops flirt

ith us, displaying their anthologies of love poetry, tempting as heart'shaped bo+es of chocolates '

the contents telling the seet list of the poets$ names, arvell, -erric#, A#hmatova, mily

*ic#inson, Campion, /eats. I came to rite poetry through the reading of it at school I as

blessed in my teachers1 and )ove 2oems, sometimes centuries old, but alays eirdly fresh, ere

definitely my favourite. A love poem in a 3uiet nglish lesson seemed as startling and e+otic as a

ild bird flying in through the classroom indo. lectrifying, also, as the discovery of the vividly

se+y poems of Catullus as translated by 4ames ichie1 in our )atin 5CS classes. (-o many

#isses satisfy, -o many are enough and more, 7ou as# me, )esbia. I reply As many as the

)ibyan sands Sprin#ling the Cyrenaic shore...$ y homeor# mar#s shot up.

any of us probably begin ith the te+tual treasures of the "6th Century hen e thin# of the love

poem in nglish. 8ot only Sha#espeare$s great sonnets of homose+ual and heterose+ual love, but

the poems of 9homas :yatt and Sir 2hilip Sidney, among others; and, later, ?"'"6=@1 e find

Andre arvell$s evergreen (9o -is Coy istress$' (An -undred years should go to praise 9hine

eyes and on thy forehead gae; 9o hundred to adore each breast; But thirty thousand to the

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rest...$ ' 3uite probably the best e+ample in literature of a poem ritten to persuade the beloved

into bed. It is 4ohn *onne, hoever, ho tells us ho to proceed once successfully beteen the

sheets

)icence my roving hands, and let them go,

Before, behind, beteen, above, belo.

my AmericaD my ne'found land,

y #ingdom safest hen ith one man mann$d...

...Eull na#ednessD All joys are due to thee,

As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth$d must be...

9he finest love poets of the

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y on personal treasures include 2ablo 8eruda$s (9enty )ove 2oems and a Song of *espair,$ in

the "?66 translation by 8athaniel 9arn ' one of the first poetry collections I bought as a student. (I

ant to do to you hat Spring does to the cherry trees,$ rote the !0'year old 8eruda in "?!@. 9he

poems today remain as urgently gorgeous as freshly'pic#ed floers in the hands. . 2oys

athers$ e+traordinarily beautiful translation, (Blac# arigolds$, a free interpretation of the ""th

Century Sans#rit, as first published in "?"?. In it, a poet ho is to be e+ecuted for being the illicit

lover of the /ing$s daughter, spends his last night alive recalling their passionate devotion in >0

rapt, ecstatic verses

ven no

If my girl ith lotus eyes came to me again

:eary ith the dear eight of young love,

Again I ould give her to these starved tins of armsAnd from her mouth drin# don the heavy ine,

As a reeling pirate bee in fluttered ease

Steals up the honey from the nenuphar.

As a poet, I am left stunned ith admiration at those (starved tins of arms$, at that (pirate bee$.

And the heavy ine, floers and honey here remind us of 9he Song of Songs, an enigmatic,

radiantly erotic boo# of ""= verses, gloing beteen cclesiastes and Isaiah in the ld 9estament.

9he Song of Songs, attributed to the ise but promiscuous Solomon, is a fragmentary, dream'li#e

poem in hich language itself seems smitten by love$s e+cess. It has e+erted a profound influence

on love poetry throughout the ages. 9his is from the /ing 4ames version of the Bible ' $I am come

into my garden, my sister, my spouse; I have gathered myrrh ith my spice$' and this from

9ennyson$s (aud$' (Come into the garden, aud I am here at the gate alone And the oodbine

spices are afted abroadAnd the mus# of the rose is blon.$ Amen.

Another poetic love'treasure is )ady 5regory$s translation of (*onal g$, an anonymous Fth

Century Irish poem of love and loss. 9he director 4ohn -uston had a character recite this

sublimely, heartbrea#ingly beautiful poem in his marvelous film of 4ames 4oyce$s short

masterpiece, (9he *ead$; and although the poem asn$t mentioned in the original story, 4oyce

ould surely have approved. -is on youthful love lyrics are not as #non as they might be.

(I am to fools, I #no,$ rote 4ohn *onne, (for loving and for saying so In hining poetry.$

2erhaps a typoH :ine and poetryH1 ur poets suffer no more than the rest of us in love. 9hey

don$t feel more deeply or ma#e better lovers ' one thin#s 3ueasily of ilton here. But they are, the

best of them, able, as Auden said, to tell us (the truth about love$ in the hard'earned ord'music of

their poems. ()ay your sleeping head, my love, -uman on my faithless arm...$ rote Auden again,

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