I Love Thee More

Short love poems expressing love for another, even as the years go by. The verses speak about love and how years continue to grow a person's love more and more. Funny you think you love someone as much as you can and then you find as the years pass your love only grows stronger.

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I Love Thee More
Poet Unknown

Each day, beloved, I think I love thee more
Than any day that we have ever known,
But less than that which is to come.
What will it matter then, in after years,
The furrowed cheek, or ever-whitening hair,
If always Love grows stronger, more serene!

Think in our hearts what precious memories live,
Not one of mine which is not also thine,
Binding the old bonds closer every day,
Weaving new links in Life's bright golden chain!

We shall grow old and weak, with feeble steps,
But closer every day, our clasping hands,
Since every day, beloved, I love thee more
Than any day that we have ever known,
Yet less than that which is to come.

Yes, We Are Growing Old
Poet: Howard Carleton Tripp

Yes, we are growing old!
The shadows of the evening time are here!
The afternoon of life shall disappear
So swiftly that at best 'twill only seem
Much like the ghostly phantoms of a dream;
''Tis time for us to make our peace with God,
To be less frugal of our hoarded gold,
For soon we'll sleep beneath the silent sod.
For we, alas, dear wife, are growing old!

Yes, we are growing old!
No panacea of mankind can bring
Us back to life's fair promises of spring!
Nor let into our years the olden blaze
That gladdened life's too brief, bright summer days,
When in our prime we hastened fast along
Ere we had felt the autumn's frost and cold;
Alas, we once were young and blithe and strong,
But now, alas, dear wife, we're growing old!

Yes, we are growing old!
The harvest days of life are all too brief!
Ah, may Old Time in binding up life's sheaf.
Bind up good thoughts and deeds, and then destroy
The weeds and tares that grew up to annoy
Us as we journeyed swiftly down the slope
Unto the very sands of shining gold!
Oh, may we cling unto life's sweetest hope!
Alas, alas, dear wife, we're growing old!

Yes, we are growing old!
Oh, Father Time, but stay thy speed and bring
Us back once more to life's feir days of spring!
Oh, let us wander in its summer meads,
Filling life full of grand acts and good deeds!
Oh, let the autumn's harvest be complete
With precious things more valuable than gold;
Oh, let our love be yet more fond and sweet,
For we, alas, alas, are growing old!

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