Christopher Marlowe was an English playwright, poet and translator of the Elizabethan era. Marlowe was the leader of his time, although Shakespeare was able to bring his art to a higher perfection; most dramatic poets of the 16th  century followed Marlowe’s leadership, especially in their use of language and the blank-verse line. The Passionate Shepherd to His Love is one of the most popular love poems, due to the first line “Come with me and be my love”. He uses nature, time, and imagery to profess his love and propose a plan for this love. He is making promises of what he can offer and what this person may have if they may come love with him. 

Come live with me and be my love, 
And we will all the pleasures prove, 
That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields, 
Woods, or steepy mountain yields. 

And we will sit upon the Rocks, 
Seeing the Shepherds feed their flocks, 
By shallow Rivers to whose falls 
Melodious birds sing Madrigals. 

And I will make thee beds of Roses 
And a thousand fragrant posies, 
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle 
Embroidered all with leaves of Myrtle; 

A gown made of the finest wool 
Which from our pretty Lambs we pull; 
Fair lined slippers for the cold, 
With buckles of the purest gold; 

A belt of straw and Ivy buds, 
With Coral clasps and Amber studs: 
And if these pleasures may thee move, 
Come live with me, and be my love. 

The Shepherds’ Swains shall dance and sing 
For thy delight each May-morning: 
If these delights thy mind may move, 
Then live with me, and be my love.

Jack Prelutsky is an American writer of children’s poetry who has published over 50 poetry collections. He served as U.S. Children’s Poet Laureate from 2006 to 2008 when the Poetry Foundation first established the award. Be Glad Your Nose is on Your Face is a whimsical poem about one showing the appreciation for one’s features. Although this is not about romantic love, or about a specific person, this is about loving oneself. It sets itself apart from the other poems as the tone is less serious and less romantic, however I think it fits itself into a form of love. 

Be glad your nose is on your face,
not pasted on some other place,
for if it were where it is not,
you might dislike your nose a lot.

Imagine if your precious nose
were sandwiched in between your toes,
that clearly would not be a treat,
for you’d be forced to smell your feet.

Your nose would be a source of dread
were it attached atop your head,
it soon would drive you to despair,
forever tickled by your hair.

Within your ear, your nose would be
an absolute catastrophe,
for when you were obliged to sneeze,
your brain would rattle from the breeze.

Your nose, instead, through thick and thin,
remains between your eyes and chin,
not pasted on some other place–
be glad your nose is on your face!

Lord Byron, was an English poet and politician who became a revolutionary in the Greek War of Independence, and is considered one of the leading figures of the Romantic movement of his era. She Walks in Beauty is about an unnamed woman, Byron compares her to lots of beautiful, but dark, things, like the night and starry skies. There is a contrast between light and dark, day and night, to describe her beauty. He ends this poem by saying “A heart whose love is innocent!” this defends the theme of love, as even though the poem is about this one girl, it is about love overall.  Overall this poem reflects his position in poetry as a Romantic. 

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!

Theodore Roethke suffered from issues of abandonment and loss, and his lack of self-esteem led him to strive to be accepted by peers which is also presented in his work. When he was 14, his father died of cancer and his uncle committed suicide. The poem My Papa’s Waltz, tells the story of a father-son relationship which can be interpreted in many ways, 2 of them being: he is being playfully waltzed to bed as a young boy, and the other is that this is scenario of abuse.

The whiskey on your breath   
Could make a small boy dizzy;   
But I hung on like death:   
Such waltzing was not easy.

We romped until the pans   
Slid from the kitchen shelf;   
My mother’s countenance   
Could not unfrown itself.

The hand that held my wrist   
Was battered on one knuckle;   
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.

You beat time on my head   
With a palm caked hard by dirt,   
Then waltzed me off to bed   
Still clinging to your shirt.

John Clare is known as the “the quintessential Romantic poet”. He had an admiration for nature, which can be seen in his work; in his poems we are presented with the natural world and rural life, and his love for his wife Patty and for his childhood sweetheart Mary Joyce.

In I Hid my Love, we can see the theme of love through the use of nature. He writes about a secret love he had as a child; he repeats the line “I hid my love”, while using imagery to describe what he saw and how he feels.

I hid my love when young till I 
Couldn’t bear the buzzing of a fly; 
I hid my love to my despite 
Till I could not bear to look at light: 
I dare not gaze upon her face 
But left her memory in each place; 
Where’er I saw a wild flower lie 
I kissed and bade my love good-bye. 

I met her in the greenest dells, 
Where dewdrops pearl the wood bluebells; 
The lost breeze kissed her bright blue eye, 
The bee kissed and went singing by, 
A sunbeam found a passage there, 
A gold chain round her neck so fair; 
As secret as the wild bee’s song 
She lay there all the summer long. 

I hid my love in field and town 
Till e’en the breeze would knock me down; 
The bees seemed singing ballads o’er, 
The fly’s bass turned a lion’s roar; 
And even silence found a tongue, 
To haunt me all the summer long; 
The riddle nature could not prove 
Was nothing else but secret love.