love poems for her

I.

( FRIEND AND FRIEND .)

May we, then, never know each other?
Who love each other more, I dare
Affirm for both, than brother brother,
Ay! more, my friend, than they that are
The children of one mother.

A look — and lo, our natures meet!
A word — our minds make one reply!
A touch — our hearts have but one beat!

The Graces sought in yonder stream
To cool the fervid day,
When Love's malicious godhead came,
And stole their robes away.

Proud of the theft, the little god
Their robes bade Delia wear;
While they, asham'd to stir abroad,
Remain all naked here.

" Man! put no trust in mysteries
Which none can understand:
Such dreams have sown iniquities
O'er every land:Dream not, but work! that Love and Peace
May o'er all states preside. "
These words " thy wisest " spoke, oh, Greece,
And therefore died.

My Loue allace is Loathsum wnto me: restles I liue in absence of my sweete
The harde mishapis I have incurred latelye: hes with dispaire ourquhelm'd my weerie spreit: O the Loyell saul is this the fates decreete: may I noucht haue your presens as befoir
Adew contentment till thow me intreit, so sall be sene ay till thow me restoir
Knew I allace the way I might deploir not to the world but to thy self my teers
Onlie by the may cuirit be my soir, ten thousand heartes may not sustene sic weeres

I am so desolate,
Genius sighs—
Come, Love, and be my mate,
Give me thine eyes.

I am aweary,
Love, give me rest;
Leave me not dreary,
Give me thy breast.

The lark looks to heaven,
The flower to the sun;
But my heart is sore riven
For thy beauty, sweet one.

Give me thy presence,
My life to eufold;
Then care and sorrow hence,
My life thou shalt hold.

SONG.

Now (as I live) I love thee much,
And fain would love thee more,
Did I but know thy temper such,
As could give o're.

But to ingage thy Virgin-heart,
Then leave it in distresse,
Were to betray thy brave desert,
And make it lesse.

Were all the Eastern Treasures mine,
I'de pour them at thy feet:
But to invite a Prince to dine

Believe not him whom Love hath left so wise,
As to have power his own tale to tell;
For Childrens griefs do yield the loudest cryes,
And cold desires may be expressed well.
In well-told Love most often falshood lyes.
But pity him that onely sighs and Dyes.

His Answer.

Yet trust him that a sad tale tells,
With sighs and tears in's eyes:
For Love with torture often dwells,

The pitied fortune most men chiefly hate,
And rather think the envied fortunate:
Yet I, if Misery did look as she,
Should quickly fall in love with Misery.

What is love? a compound strange,
Made of mingled hopes and fears;
Subject to perpetual change,
Quick succeeding smiles and tears.

What is love? a sudden whim,
Like lightning, passing through the mind:
A strange capricious fickle thing,
More inconstant than the wind.

What is love? a gentle flame,
Blazing round the youthful heart;
Prov'd by the mention of a name,
Which sweet emotions can impart.

Prov'd by the glances of the eye,
Which, what the tongue denies, reveals;

Oh ! tell me, thou who all my Soul inspires,
Source of my Joys, and Partner of my Fires,
By what clear Stream, or nigh what flow'ry Mead
Thy tender Flocks with wanton Pleasure feed:
Where does my Dear, my lovely Wand'rer stray;
Tell me, and guide my weary Steps that Way.

In vain I trace the Plains, each winding Grove;
No Swain directs me to my absent Love:
Close in the Covert of some Shade he lyes;
Some envious Shade conceals him from my Eyes:
Bear then my soft Complainings tOhis Ear;