Poems about Marriage poems

When God brings together, Two people in a marriage, He encourages, Many things along the way.To never be afraid, Of the steps, That are directed by Him.Fellowship daily, Be in a hurry for noth

Love and marriageLove and marriageGo together Like ice cream and cabbageAnd i'll tell you, brotherIf she don't like sexJust blame the mother.Author: David Keig

Marriage gives life to love and love gives life to marriage.In marriage, love means: To know in your heart you were meant only for each-other.To know that Heaven grew you apart and brought you tog

Before MarriageA free life sportive like a fawn, Or a flying bird in the limitless sky, Time is mine from dusk to dawn, And know not how to be shy.After MarriageA weighty life full of duties

When once your single state of life is changed By sacred Marriage vows and carnal ties, You never from spouse ever be estranged; The nuptial bond before God never dies. To each other, you owe you

Full seventeen years have rolled off nowSince marriage; only God knows ‘how? ’We may have had our years of strife; But on the whole, ‘twas nice a life! Our children are our wealth; The Scr

King Suddhodana’s selectionAs wife for Siddhartha, his son, Was Yashodhara, the princess, The most beautiful among ladies.Her father, King Suprabuddha, However doubted Siddhartha, Whether he

Ten years of marriage, gone in a secondShe stopped loving the father of her childrenGiving herself to another in bedHer wedding ring, mere jewelryHeartbroken, betrayed, feeling suicidalMaybe he

Part the FirstKing Arthur lives in merry Carleile,And seemely is to see;And there with him Queene Guenever,That bride soe bright of blee.And there with him Queene Guenever, That bride soe brigh

'Twas always held, and ever will,By sage mankind, discreeterTo anticipate a lesser illThan undergo a greater.When mortals dread disease, pain,And languishing conditions,Who don't the lesser ill

Janet Jackson is allergic to marriage, Imagine that? Her brother is Michael, he hangs around and lets little boys sleep in his bed, Is there a kind of perverse genetic disorder that is involved th

IT is the dead of night: Yet more than noonday light Beams far and wide from many a gorgeous hall. Unnumbered harps are tinkling, Unnumbered lamps are twinkling, In the great city of the fourfold