love poem

My love is good, my love is feäir,
She's comely to behold, O,
In ev'rything that she do wear,
Altho' 'tis new or wold, O.
My heart do leäp to see her walk,
So straïght do step her veet, O,
My tongue is dum' to hear her talk,
Her vaice do sound so sweet, O.
The flow'ry groun' wi' floor o' green
Do bear but vew, so good an' true.

When she do zit, then she do seem
The feäirest to my zight, O,
Till she do stan' an' I do deem,
She's feäirest at her height, O.
An' she do seem 'ithin a room

A rose has thorns as well as honey,
I'll not have her for love or money;
An iris grows so straight and fine,
That she shall be no friend of mine;
Snowdrops like the snow would chill me;
Nightshade would caress and kill me;
Crocus like a spear would fright me;
Dragon's-mouth might bark or bite me;
Convolvulus but blooms to die;
A wind-flower suggests a sigh;
Love-lies-bleeding makes me sad;
And poppy-juice would drive me mad:—
But give me holly, bold and jolly,
Honest, prickly, shining holly;

Lord, dost Thou look on me, and will not I
Launch out my heart to Heaven to look on Thee?
Here if one loved me I should turn to see,
And often think on him and often sigh,
And by a tender friendship make reply
To love gratuitous poured forth on me,
And nurse a hope of happy days to be,
And mean “until we meet” in each good-bye.
Lord, Thou dost look and love is in Thine Eyes,
Thy Heart is set upon me day and night,
Thou stoopest low to set me far above:
O Lord, that I may love Thee make me wise;

If you love me, love of mine,
Let me feel it day by day!
Never take the light divine
Of your tender love away!
Let me feel it when we meet,
By the joy that fills my heart
Making every moment sweet;
By my sorrow, when we part.

Let me feel that you are mine,
When the autumn leaves alight;
When the suns of summer shine;
When the stars begem the night.
Let me feel it hour by hour,
As the seasons come and go:
When the golden kingcups flower;
When the fields are white with snow.

Woe to the man who having touched a Bride
Elect in heaven, a daughter of the spheres,
To earth descends and quits his angel-peers
And lives as man,—his very soul has died.
He who once wandered by a seraph's side
Through groves unearthly now with terror hears
The wizard music that with passionate tears
He heard of old, by hearing deified.

I marked the voices of vast angel-hosts—
And all with one terrific grim accord
Cried out in Love's name, “Keen-edged is the sword
That through that man's most hapless heart shall smite

Better Love's bond should snap with the rending of soul and spirit
Than it should fritter away and part we never knew when.

I lived in Hell the other day
Its fires wrapt me angrily,
But now their horrors fall and fade
Like ghosts that memory has made.

I lived in Hell even today,
How swift the fierce flames die away—
Submerged with kisses, I forget,
With tears upon my pillows yet.

Sing me a song of the South, my love,
Of dear old Dixie land;
Where flowers are abloom and skies above
And the climate's pretty grand;
Where the mocking birds and the cuckoos flit
All day from tree to tree.
Make me a song like that, and split
The royalties with me.

Sing me a song of the South, my love,
Of dear old Dixie land;
Where flowers are abloom and skies above
And the climate's pretty grand;
Where the mocking birds and the cuckoos flit
All day from tree to tree.
Make me a song like that, and split

This is the month of sunrise skies
Intense with molten mist and flame;
Out of the purple deeps arise
Colors no painter yet could name:
Gold-lilies and the cardinal-flower
Were pale against this gorgeous hour.

Still lovelier when athwart the east
The level beam of sunset falls:
The tints of wild-flowers long deceased
Glow then upon the horizon walls;
Shades of the rose and violet
Close to their dear world lingering yet.

What idleness, to moan and fret
For any season fair, gone by!

The truest love that ever heart
Felt at its kindled core
Did through each vein, in quickened start,
The tide of being pour.

Her coming was my hope each day,
Her parting was my pain;
The chance that did her steps delay,
Was ice in every vein.

I dreamed it would be nameless bliss,
As I loved, loved to be;
And to this object did I press
As blind as eagerly.

But wide as pathless was the space
That lay, our lives, between,
And dangerous as the foamy race
Of ocean-surges green.