love poems for her

In Sherwood livde stout Robin Hood,
An archer great, none greater:
His bow and shafts were sure and good,
Yet Cupids were much beter.
Robin could shoot at many a hart and misse,
Cupid at first could hit a hart of his.
Hey jolly Robin, hoe jolly Robin, hey jolly Robin Hood,
Love finds out me, as well as thee, to follow me, to follow me to the green wood.

A noble thiefe was Robin Hoode,
Wise was he could deceive him;
Yet Marrian, in his bravest mood,
Could of his heart bereave him.

In Oxford city there's a wealthy fair maid,
The truth to you, love, I'm going to tell.
She was strongly courting a handsome young man,
Who always told to her he loved her well.

He loved her dearly all at a distance,
While walking down by the shady strand;
And he often told her he'd never leave her,
While walking down by the shady strand.

It's to a dance house they were invited,
And to a dance house they both did go,
Till this other young man came between them
And cruel jealousy, love, run in his mind.

In Mem'ry's fairest court a shrine is set,
Round which the fragrance of a sweet life clings, —
The essence of such rare and holy things
As Love alone can sanctify. The fret
And turmoil of the world avail not yet
To quench the sweetness; for an angel's wings
Are ever hov'ring near, and longing brings
A vision loved that makes the eyelids wet.
Dear sister, in those realms of radiant light
Where thou hast grown to know a richer lore
Than that of earth, sometimes rememb'rest thou
The hours of our companionship so bright

In hearts too young for enmity there lies the way to make men free;
When children's friendships are world wide
New ages will be glorified.
Let child love child, and strife will cease.
Disarm the hearts, for that is peace.

In hearts too young for enmity there lies the way to make men free;
When children's friendships are world wide
New ages will be glorified.
Let child love child, and strife will cease.
Disarm the hearts, for that is peace.

In faith methinks it is no right
To hate me thus for loving ye.
So fair a face, so full of spite!
Who would have thought such cruelty?
But since there is no remedy,
That by no means ye can me love,
I shall you leave and other prove.

For if I have for my good will
No reward else but cruelty,
In faith, thereof I can no skill,
Since that I loved ye honestly;
But take heed I will till I die,
Or that I love so well again,
Since women use so much to feign.

In every solemn tree the wind
Has rung a little lonesome bell,
As sweet and clear, as cool and kind
As my voice bidding you farewell.

This is an hour that gods have loved
To snatch with bare, bright hands and hold.
Mine, with a gesture, gray and gloved,
Dismiss it from me in the cold.

Closely as some dark-shuttered house
I keep my light. How should you know,
That, as you turn beneath brown boughs,
My heart is breaking in the snow?

In Baalbec there were lovers
Who plucked the passing flower;
In Sidon and Palmyra
Each flushed, immortal hour

Was gathered in the passing;
In Greece and Rome they knew
That from the living Present
The whitest blossoms grew.

The countless generations
Like Autumn leaves go by:
Love only is eternal,
Love only does not die. . . .

I hear the dying nations
Go by on phantom feet —
But still the rose is fragrant,
And still a kiss is sweet!

If so be a Toad be laid
In a Sheeps-skin newly flayed,
And that tied to man 'twill sever
Him and his affections ever.

I'll think of thee, mine own, dear one
As morn's first blushing ray
Diffuses light o'er the dim earth—
Turns darkness into day.

I'll think of thee at eve, my love,
When moon and star appear—
When in the horizon of my hope
All, all is bright and clear.

I'll think of thee when joy doth cast
Its gladness o'er my heart,
As peace, and love and happiness
Seem new life to impart.

I'll think of thee when dark shades fall
Athwart my fevered brow;
When low in death I hear thee lisp—

If you're ever going to love me love me now, while I can know
All the sweet and tender feelings which from real affection flow.
Love me now, while I am living; do not wait till I am gone
And then chisel it in marble — warm love words on ice-cold stone.
If you've dear, sweet thoughts about me, why not whisper them to me?
Don't you know 'twould make me happy and as glad as glad could be?
If you wait till I am sleeping, ne'er to waken here again,
There'll be walls of earth between us and I couldn't hear you then.