love poems for her

From me, my Dear, O seek not to receive
What e'en deep-read Experience cannot give.
We may, indeed, from the Physician's skill
Some Med'cine find to cure the body's ill.
But who e'er found the physic for the soul,
Or made th' affections bend to his controul?
When thro' the blaze of passion objects show
How dark 's the shade! how bright the colours glow!
All the rous'd soul with transport's overcome,
And the mind's surly Monitor is dumb.

In vain the sages turn their volumes o'er,
And on the musty page incessant pore,

When life's fitful reign is over,
When its cherished dreams are dead,
When the spirit is a rover,
When the soul from earth has fled

To the realms of endless glory,
Mortals cannot comprehend —
Long the theme of song and story —
Where old joys and new joys blend,

We shall know and love each other,
Know and love each other there,
Where the angels dwell together —
Angels passing bright and fair.

Nothing lives but love's sweet essence,
And the soul's all quenchless light;

She was young; old Conroy took her,
Took her for herself alone,
For no wealth had she to offer,
Love for him she had not shown.

But, he said, that did not move him;
He of wealth abundance had;
He was old, and she could make him
Less a recluse, lone and sad!

Age had robbed his breast of passion,
And had drained his eyes of tears;
He would leave his ample fortune
To the wife of his last years.

She was all that painters picture,
All that poets deem divine;

The grateful heart for all things blesses;
Not only joy, but grief endears:
I love you for your few caresses,
I love you for my many tears.

Do and permit whate'er you will
With others, I shall love you stil.
Heaven grant we may not love the most
When to each other we are lost!

Rest of my heart! no verse can tell
My blissful pride, beloved by you;
Yet could I love you half so well
Unless you once had grieved me too?

Love , flying out of sight, o'ershadows me,
And leaves me cold as cold can be;
Farewell alasses! and no-mores! and you,
Sweetest and saddest word, adieu!

" FEAR God!" says Percival: and when you hear
Tones so lugubrious, you perforce must fear:
If in such awful accents he should say,
" Fear lovely Innocence!" you'd run away.

Fate ! I have askt few things of thee,
And fewer have to ask.
Shortly, thou knowest, I shall be
No more . . . then con thy task.

If one be left on earth so late
Whose love is like the past,
Tell her, in whispers, gentle Fate,
Not even love must last.

Tell her, I leave the noisy feast
Of life, a little tired;
Amidst its pleasures few possest
And many undesired.

Tell her, with steady pace to come
And, where my laurels lie,
To throw the freshest on the tomb

1

Who breathes to thee the holiest prayer,
O Love! is ever least thy care.
Alas! I may not ask thee why 'tis so . .
Because a fiery scroll I see
Hung at the throne of Destiny,
Reason with Love and register with Woe.

2

Few question thee, for thou art strong
And, laughing loud at right and wrong,
Seizest, and dashest down, the rich, the poor;
Thy scepter's iron studs alike
The meaner and the prouder strike,
And wise and simple fear thee and adore.