有关爱情的英文诗歌5篇

弘贤作文网“关于爱情的英文诗”相关英文,诗歌作文内容：

爱情是什么?有人说爱情就是一对恋人间的互相肯定与关怀;爱情不是索取，而是给予。也有人说爱情就是单纯的恋爱。那么如何理解爱情呢?下面小编给大家带来关于爱情的英文诗歌，方便大家学习。

有关爱情的英文诗歌1

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

吾爱汝深深几许?今且听吾细数之

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

欲言情深深似海，欲状情厚更无垠

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

此心幽幽不可名，此情切切绕魂灵

For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

奉祷三生冀神佑，执手一诺许终生

I love thee to the level of everyday's

思君不见日难度，柔情入盏饮朝暮

Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.

于昼不可无金乌，是夜岂能少龙烛

I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

吾心真率无犹疑，坦若君子承浩气

I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

吾爱纯粹无污秽，洁如赞歌携颂回

I love thee with the passion put to use

此情灼灼如烈焰，为汝独燃无余烬

In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

倘若迟暮生悲痛，梦归童乡拾彼心

I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

曾疑应舍白头意，仿若迷徒失圣心

With my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath,

而今终得汝相惜，一呼一吸两相系

Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,

焕彩重描笑与泪，生生世世不相离

I shall but love thee better after death.

有关爱情的英文诗歌2

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 every day’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 the 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.

有关爱情的英文诗歌3

Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,

But as for me, alas, I may no more.

The vain travail hath wearied me so sore,

I am of them that farthest cometh behind.

Yet may I by no means my wearied mind

Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore

Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,

Since in a net I seek to hold the wind.

Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,

As well as I may spend his time in vain.

And graven with diamonds in letters plain

There is written, her fair neck round about:

“Noli me tangere, for Caesar’s I am,

And wild for to hold, though I seem tame.”

Whoso list: whoever wants

Hind: Female deer

Noli me tangere: “Don’t touch me”

有关爱情的英文诗歌4

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea:

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

I and my Annabel Lee;

With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven

Laughed loud at her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsman came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,

Went laughing at her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the laughter in heaven above,

Nor the demons down under the sea,

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea,

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

有关爱情的英文诗歌5

All thoughts, all passions, all delights,

Whatever stirs this mortal frame,

All are but ministers of Love,

And feed his sacred flame.

Oft in my waking dreams do I

Live o’er again that happy hour,

When midway on the mount I lay,

Beside the ruined tower.

The moonshine, stealing o’er the scene

Had blended with the lights of eve;

And she was there, my hope, my joy,

My own dear Genevieve!

She leant against the arméd man,

The statue of the arméd knight;

She stood and listened to my lay,

Amid the lingering light.

Few sorrows hath she of her own,

My hope! my joy! my Genevieve!

She loves me best, whene’er I sing

The songs that make her grieve.

I played a soft and doleful air,

I sang an old and moving story—

An old rude song, that suited well

That ruin wild and hoary.

She listened with a flitting blush,

With downcast eyes and modest grace;

For well she knew, I could not choose

But gaze upon her face.

I told her of the Knight that wore

Upon his shield a burning brand;

And that for ten long years he wooed

The Lady of the Land.

I told her how he pined: and ah!

The deep, the low, the pleading tone

With which I sang another’s love,

Interpreted my own.

She listened with a flitting blush,

With downcast eyes, and modest grace;

And she forgave me, that I gazed

Too fondly on her face!

But when I told the cruel scorn

That crazed that bold and lovely Knight,

And that he crossed the mountain-woods,

Nor rested day nor night;

That sometimes from the savage den,

And sometimes from the darksome shade,

And sometimes starting up at once

In green and sunny glade,—

There came and looked him in the face

An angel beautiful and bright;

And that he knew it was a Fiend,

This miserable Knight!

And that unknowing what he did,

He leaped amid a murderous band,

And saved from outrage worse than death

The Lady of the Land!

And how she wept, and clasped his knees;

And how she tended him in vain—

And ever strove to expiate

The scorn that crazed his brain;—

And that she nursed him in a cave;

And how his madness went away,

When on the yellow forest-leaves

A dying man he lay;—

His dying words—but when I reached

That tenderest strain of all the ditty,

My faultering voice and pausing harp

Disturbed her soul with pity!

All impulses of soul and sense

Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve;

The music and the doleful tale,

The rich and balmy eve;

And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,

An undistinguishable throng,

And gentle wishes long subdued,

Subdued and cherished long!

She wept with pity and delight,

She blushed with love, and virgin-shame;

And like the murmur of a dream,

I heard her breathe my name.

Her bosom heaved—she stepped aside,

As conscious of my look she stepped—

Then suddenly, with timorous eye

She fled to me and wept.

She half enclosed me with her arms,

She pressed me with a meek embrace;

And bending back her head, looked up,

And gazed upon my face.

‘Twas partly love, and partly fear,

And partly ’twas a bashful art,

That I might rather feel, than see,

The swelling of her heart.

I calmed her fears, and she was calm,

And told her love with virgin pride;

And so I won my Genevieve,

My bright and beauteous Bride.

有关爱情的英文诗歌5篇