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A final arrangement is seen at Elite Flowers, one of the largest floral distributors in the U.S., as it prepares for one of its biggest holidays by moving more than 700 million flowers in the two weeks leading up to Valentine's Day, with the photograph taken in Miami Feb. 3, 2015. Reuters

Love poems tell of passion, lust, desire, anguish and overwhelming happiness. They can bring a reader to tears with vivid words and imagery that recount the grace, beauty and simplicity of one of our most complex emotions. On Valentine’s Day, there is perhaps no more authentic and revealing gesture than sharing a heartfelt poem with the person who fills your heart.

Below are some of our favorite love poems to woo your Valentine this year. Tell the recipient -- whether it’s a him, her, child or friend -- that you were inspired by some of history’s greatest literature to share your emotions with someone you care about.

love is more thicker than forget, By E. E. Cummings

love is more thicker than forget

more thinner than recallmore seldom than a wave is wetmore frequent than to failit is most mad and moonlyand less it shall unbethan all the sea which onlyis deeper than the sealove is less always than to winless never than aliveless bigger than the least beginless littler than forgiveit is most sane and sunlyand more it cannot diethan all the sky which onlyis higher than the sky

To A Stranger, By Walt Whitman

PASSING stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you

You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me, as of a dream,)I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,All is recall'd as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,You grew up with me, were a boy with me, or a girl with me,I ate with you, and slept with you- your body has become not yoursonly, nor left my body mine only,You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass- youtake of my beard, breast, hands, in return,I am not to speak to you- I am to think of you when I sit alone, or wake at night alone,I am to wait- I do not doubt I am to meet you again,I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

Bar Napkin Sonnet #11, By Moira Egan

Things happen when you drink too much mescal.

One night, with not enough food in my belly,he kept on buying. I’m a girl who’ll falldamn near in love with gratitude and, well, hewas hot and generous and so the leastthat I could do was let him kiss me, hardand soft and any way you want it, beastand beauty, lime and salt—sweet Bacchus’ pards—and when his friend showed up I felt so warmand generous I let him kiss me too.His buddy asked me if it was the worminside that makes me do the things I do.I wasn’t sure which worm he meant, the oneI ate? The one that eats at me alone?

Love and Friendship, By Emily Bronte

Love is like the wild rose-briar,Friendship like the holly-tree—The holly is dark when the rose-briar bloomsBut which will bloom most constantly?The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring,Its summer blossoms scent the air;Yet wait till winter comes againAnd who will call the wild-briar fair?Then scorn the silly rose-wreath nowAnd deck thee with the holly’s sheen,That when December blights thy browHe still may leave thy garland green.

Sonnet 43, By Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.I love thee to the depth and breadth and heightMy soul can reach, when feeling out of sightFor the ends of being and ideal grace.I love thee to the level of every day’sMost 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 useIn my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.I love thee with a love I seemed to loseWith 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.

Valentine, By Carol Anne Duffy

Not a red rose or a satin heart.I give you an onion.It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.It promises light like the careful undressing of love.Here.It will blind you with tears like a lover.It will make your reflection a wobbling photo of grief.

Going Steady, By Ian Serrallier

Valentine, O, Valentine,I’ll be your love and you’ll be mine.We’ll care for each other, rain or fine,And in 90 years we’ll be 99.

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