love poems for her

My hope and my love, we will go for a while into the wood, scattering the dew, where we will see the trout, we will see the blackbird on its nest; the deer and the buck calling, the little bird that is sweetest singing on the branches; the cuckoo on the top of the fresh green; and death will never come near us for ever in the sweet wood.

Still, still and lovely, as some sculptured form,
She lay draped in her shroud of snowy white;
But cold the cheek that once was purely warm,
And dim the eye that once was proudly bright.

The rich curl-clusters of her golden hair
Hung o'er the pulseless form in careless grace;
And Death's cold shadow rested on the fair
And placid beauty of the faultless face.

The parted lips still wore a ruby tinge,
And round the mouth a smile yet seemed to play;
The right hand rested on the curtain-fringe,

While recent, young, and weak, the unripe seeds
Of those dire cares which have their rise from Love,
Ere yet in rank luxuriance strong and wild
They flourish, crush, and from the incipient ill
Forewarned, retreat; prudent if from the yoke
Ungalled thy neck may be withdrawn. Nor think
The danger distant if no warning pangs
Give friendly notice of its dread approach.
At first, with scanty flow the tinkling rill
Drips from the rock; then oozing through green moss,
Or over pebbles chiming, gently winds

Nursed in the lap of languid ease
The flames of love more fiercely glow,
Long leisure feeds the soft disease,
And bids the sweet infection grow.

With vigour rouse thy torpid soul,
The fond delusion wouldst thou fly,
Action and arms Love's spells controul,
And overpower his feeble cry.

When round the Thracian God her arms
The smiling queen of beauty throws,
When he, inclining o'er her charms,
The faulchion and the spear foregoes,

Then Love protects his mother's bower,

A SPARROW and his mate,
(Believe me, gentle Kate!)
Once lov'd like I and you;
With mutual ardour join'd,
No turtles e'er so kind,
So constant and so true.

They hopp'd from spray to spray;
They bill'd, they chirp'd all day,
They cuddled close all night;
To bliss they wak'd each morn,
In every bush and thorn
Gay scenes of new delight.

At length the fowler came,
(The knave was much to blame)
And this dear pair trepann'd;
Both in one cage confin'd:
Why, faith and troth, 'twas kind;

No wonder my heart it is sore,
No wonder the tears that I weep;
My true love I'll see him no more,
He lies fathoms down in the deep.

He lies fathoms down in the deep,
Where the cold clammy seaweeds abound.
How cruel thy wild waves to me,
O sea that my true love hast drowned.

O sea that my true love hast drowned,
Thou hast reft me of joy evermore;
Thy waves make me shudder with fear
As I listen and hear their wild roar.

My true love and I, hand in hand,
Often wandered the uplands among,

Sovereigne of Queenes: If vayne Ambition move
my hart to seeke an earthly prynces grace:
shewe me thy sonne in his imperiall place,
whose servants reigne, our kynges & queenes above.
And if alluryng passions I doe prove,
by pleasyng sighes: shewe me thy lovely face:
whose beames the Angells beuty do deface:
and even inflame the Seraphins with love.
So by Ambition I shall humble bee:
when in the presence of the highest kynge
I serve all his, that he may honour mee.
And love, my hart to chaste desyres shall brynge,

How can I tell thee, dear, what never words
Have fitly told? How ope my heart to thee
Wherein thou mightst, as in a well, perceive
Deep down but the mere shadow of my love?
But as the wind sweeps from the icy north
To some lov'd isle in dim Pacific seas,
Or as the never-ceasing circling waves
Follow round earth the radiant orb of night,
So follow I with love unspeakable
The pathways fill'd with light which are thine own.
O love, thou art the flame that burns for me,

My steady purpose! That no dark can quench!

MADAM ,

I've seen, but ah! these happy hours are fled,
When you was charmed with every thing I said;
Praised my perfections to a high degree,
Vowed you loved only one, and that was me.
Ah! lovely nymph; can you so faithless prove,
To slight the swain you did so dearly love.
Yes, yes, 'tis true, and I am in despair,
And must I die a martyr to the fair!
Let all who love their peace, of your sex have care,
For every smile, and every look's a snare.

Old loves, once so alive, but now long dead!
They told the same sweet lies, they often said
The same fond, foolish things, — lip answered lip
With the same thrill, for Love's strong mastership.
Time is an empty Temple of Delight
Where once Love's way was festal, day and night.
And yet the newest pair of lovers smile,
Laughing and loving for their little while,
Without a tremor, and their look as gay
As those now dim, or these of yesterday.

Eternally they flicker to and fro
To Fancy's eye; for ever come and go