love poems for her

When I see you, who were so wise and cool,
Gazing with silly sickness on that fool
You've given your love to, your adoring hands
Touch his so intimately that each understands,
I know, most hidden things; and when I know
Your holiest dreams yield to the stupid bow
Of his red lips, and that the empty grace
Of those strong legs and arms, that rosy face,
Has beaten your heart to such a flame of love,
That you have given him every touch and move,
Wrinkle and secret of you, all your life,
—Oh! then I know I'm waiting, lover-wife,

There was a damned successful Poet;
— There was a Woman like the Sun.
And they were dead. They did not know it.
— They did not know their time was done.
They did not know his hymns
Were silence; and her limbs,
That had served Love so well,
Dust, and a filthy smell.

And so one day, as ever of old,
— Hands out, they hurried, knee to knee;
On fire to cling and kiss and hold
— And, in the other's eyes, to see
Each his own tiny face,
And in that long embrace
Feel lip and breast grow warm

What have I to say to you
When we shall meet?
Yet—
I lie here thinking of you.

The stain of love
Is upon the world.
Yellow, yellow, yellow,
It eats into the leaves,
Smears with saffron
The horned branches that lean
Heavily
Against a smooth purple sky.

There is no light—
Only a honey-thick stain
That drips from leaf to leaf
And limb to limb
Spoiling the colors
Of the whole world.

I am alone.
The weight of love
Has buoyed me up
Till my head

LOVE love to-day, my dear,
Love is not always here;
Wise maids know how soon grows sere
The greenest leaf of Spring;
But no man knoweth
Whither it goeth
When the wind bloweth
So frail a thing.

Love love, my dear, to-day,
If the ship's in the bay,
If the bird has come your way
That sings on summer trees;
When his song faileth
And the ship saileth
No voice availeth
To call back these.

Now, O now, in this brown land
— Where Love did so sweet music make
We two shall wander, hand in hand,
— Forbearing for old friendship' sake,
Nor grieve because our love was gay
Which now is ended in this way.

A rogue in red and yellow dress
— Is knocking, knocking at the tree;
And all around our loneliness
— The wind is whistling merrily.
The leaves — they do not sigh at all
When the year takes them in the fall.

Now, O now, we hear no more
— The villanelle and roundelay!

Dear heart, why will you use me so?
— Dear eyes that gently me upbraid,
Still are you beautiful — but O,
— How is your beauty raimented!

Through the clear mirror of your eyes,
— Through the soft cry of kiss to kiss,
Desolate winds assail with cries
— The shadowy garden where love is.

And soon shall love dissolved be
— When over us the wild winds blow —
But you, dear love, too dear to me,
— Alas! why will you use me so?

Winds of May, that dance on the sea,
Dancing a ring-around in glee
From furrow to furrow, while overhead
The foam flies up to be garlanded,
In silvery arches spanning the air,
Saw you my true love anywhere?
Welladay! Welladay!
For the winds of May!
— Love is unhappy when love is away!

O NOT more surely Love lies hid
— Among the clustered crimson roses,
Than he, whose name thy lips forbid
— Within thy secret heart reposes,
And not more surely Love will fly
— When Zephyrus hath ceased his fooling,
Than Anger in thy breast shall die,
— And thou confess the Monarch ruling.

D UMB Comforter of woes!
The depth of whose deep comfort no man knows.
Whose consolations on the spirit steal
More gently than Love's gentlest word, and heal
Where Love falls back affrighted — only Life
Proves Thee the Comforter of mortal strife,
Of all that doth begin and end, that He
May speak in Thy dread silence endlessly.

What vision of the softly sleeping eyes
— Shone like the vision that they could not see?
Night, quivering with the children of the skies
Resplendently.

Fair is her dream. But ah! what fairest dream
— Is half so lovely as the dawn of day,
When the first golden gleam
Chases the rose and dove colour away?