love poems for her

Sleep, sleep, imperious heart! Sleep, fair and undefiled!
Sleep and be free.
Come in your dreams at last, comrade and queen and child,
At last to me.

Come, for the honeysuckle calls you out of the night.
Come, for the air
Calls with a tyrannous remembrance of delight,
Passion, and prayer.

Sleep, sovereign heart! and now, — for dream and memory
Endure no door, —
My spirit undenied goes where my feet, to thee,
Have gone before.

A moonbeam or a breath, above thine eyes I bow,

Give not to me, mid the thunder
And speed of the world's hot wheels,
Such love as perhaps the Marble
For the Alabaster feels.

But love me with love as fiery
As the furnace whence arose
Both Marble and Alabaster,
In the Earth's primeval throes.

Nature has no solitude
For those who list to her,
Her voice is daily heard to speak
To them distinct and clear.

Think'st thou the broad expanse
Of lake, of ocean grand,
The flow of brooks and rivers,
And stretch of level land,

The grandeur of the mountains,
The flowers, the grass, the trees,
The rocks, the birds, the insects, —
Think'st thou not that these,

These things and others, too, which make
Up Nature, truly they
Speak to the inward man — the soul —

Shall we know our dear and loved ones
Who before ourselves have gone
To that fair Celestial City,
They whose work on earth is done?

Shall we meet them there in Heaven,
Friends to us so near and dear,
Shall we greet them and caress them,
As we did when they were here?

Shall, oh, shall we in their company
Walk the shining streets of gold,
And behold the city's beauties,
Whose half never's yet been told?

Yes, we'll know our dear and loved ones,
When to Heaven's streets we go,

Said Life to Art — " I love thee best
Not when I find in thee
My very face and form, expressed
With dull fidelity,

" But when in thee my craving eyes
Behold continually
The mystery of my memories
And all I long to be. "

Ah, love, if you could only know
The longing in this heart of mine,
You would unsay those fateful words,
And I no longer would repine.

Your fond desire is to share
All that you have — all that you own,
I ask of you far greater wealth,
The priceless gift of love, alone.

Steadfast and true I still remain,
In spite of utter loneliness,
O, let thy soul go forth with mine,
Upon this quest of happiness.

For love is life, and life is love,
Break not the bond 'twixt thee and me,

There's not a breeze that passes
But it seems to bring to me
Some tender, looked-for tidings,
Some message, love, from thee.

There's not a bird that singeth
From wall or bush or tree,
From roof of vine-wreathed balcony
But singeth, love, of thee.

There's not a flower that blossoms,
But your kindly, pensive face,
With loving eyes and heart love
On its painted leaves I trace.

There's not a stream that murmurs
Through wood or grassy lea,
Down mountain side or hollow

O FAIR with broom and woodbine,
And rowan and wild rose,
Is the Land of Hope Deferred
Where the shamrock grows;
And thither did I stray
In the long-gone day,
And I gave my heart away
To sweet Ireland.

Dead Songsters of her household
Have loved her and adored,
And their love was like a flame,
And their song was like a sword;
But an alien bard to-day,
All world-worn and gray,
Has sung his heart away
To sweet Ireland.

Have you not forgotten me?
How could I forget you,
My dear love, my true love, my own sweet heart?
Life brings many changes,
And women's hearts are fickle,
And time brings other lovers to lovers torn apart.

Soon you'll have forgotten me
How could I forget you,
When, day and night, I'm longing to be lying at your side?
Life brings many changes;
And I might forget you, living —
But how could I forget you, now that you have died!

His heart was tinder to the torch of love;
And tossed its challenge of tempestuous fire
To the cold stars—that still burn on above
The ash of his desire.