love poems for her

My love to me is always kind:
She neither storms, nor is she pined;
She does not plead with tears or sighs,
But gentle words and soft replies —
Good earnest of the thought behind.

They say the little god is blind,
They do not count him quite too wise;
Yet he, somehow, could bring and bind
My love to me.

And sweetest nut hath sourest rind?
It may be so; but she I prize
Is even lovelier in mine eyes
Than good and gracious to my mind.
I bless the fortune that consigned
My love to me.

This Posture, and these Tears, that Heav'n might move,
In vain I use in Favour of my Love:
And while thus prostrate at her Feet I lye,
Like some fair Rock she stands, that tow'ring high,
Seems deaf to those sad Murmurs, which below
The plaintive Waters utter, as they flow.

We love in youth, and plight our vows
To love till life departs;
Forgetful of the flight of time,
The change of loving hearts.

To-day departs, to-morrow comes,
Nor finds a weed away;
But no to-morrow finds a man
The man he was to-day.

Then weep no more when love decays,
For even hate is vain; —
Since every heart that hates to-day,
To-morrow loves again.

With my hart my loue was nesled
 into the sonne of happynesse;
ffrom my loue my liffe was rested
 into a world of heauinesse;
O lett my loue my liffe remaine,
since I loue not where I wold.

Darksome distance doth devyde vs,
 ffarr ffrom thee I must remaine;
dismall planetts still doth guide vs,
 ffearing wee shold meete againe;
but ffroward ffortune once remoued,
then will I liue where I wold.

Iff I send them, doe not suspect mee;
 but if I come, then am I seene;
O let thy wisdome soe direct mee

The need to love that all the stars obey
Entered my heart and banished all beside.
Bare were the gardens where I used to stray;
Faded the flowers that one time satisfied.

Before the beauty of the west on fire,
The moonlit hills from cloister-casements viewed,
Cloud-like arose the image of desire,
And cast out peace and maddened solitude.

I sought the City and the hopes iTheld:
With smoke and brooding vapors intercurled,
As the thick roofs and walls close-paralleled
Shut out the fair horizons of the world—

Though o'er the board the constellations shine,
Austere the feast for Time's retainers spread, —
Laughter the salt of life, and love the wine,
Sleep the sweet herbs, and toil the gritty bread.

I sat and read Anacreon.
Moved by the gay, delicious measure
I mused that lips were made for love,
And love to charm a poet's leisure.

And as I mused a maid came by
With something in her look that caught me.
Forgotten was Anacreon's line,
But not the lesson he had taught me.

On Love

Sing , heart of spring, along the winter ways,
Go lightly feet, 'twas here His footsteps fell,
The birds sing of Him for he counted them
And knew them all, the little wingèd loves
Like happy thoughts! Yea, every leaf that kissed
Him passing in the garden hath such life
As puts our immortality to shame.
The winds are pregnant with His message now,
The universal, all-uniting winds
That know no limitation, like the spirit
Of mighty truths, sweeping creation's bounds,

The Winter Sun is a Miser
His joy is to hoard and hold,
But the Summer Sun is wiser
He freely gives his gold.

With lavish and broad disbursal,
Beneath and around and above,
He sows his wealth Universal,
And reaps universal love.

Once there in my garden fair
Sang a bird of plumage rare,
From its throat there came to greet
My ear sweet music—strangely sweet.

Once a flower of lovely hue
In this self same garden grew,
Blossomed—oh, so sweetly there
That its breath perfumed the air.

Once a flower of lovely hue
This same garden murmured through,
Over shining stones it played,
Softest, richest music made.

In this garden 'neath a tree
That cast its copious shade for me,
Was a restful cool retreat