love poems for her

I WAS foretold your rebel sex
Nor love nor pity knew;
And with what scorn you use to vex
Poor hearts that humbly sue.
Yet I believed, to crown our pain,
Could we the fortress win,
The happy lover sure should gain
A paradise within:
I thought Love's plagues, like dragons, sat
Only to fright us at the gate.

But I did enter, and enjoy
What happy lovers prove;
For I could kiss, and sport, and toy,
And taste those sweets of love,
Which, had they but a lasting state,
Or if in Celia's breast

I want to die while you love me,
— — While yet you hold me fair,
While laughter lies upon my lips
— — And lights are in my hair.

I want to die while you love me,
— — And bear to that still bed,
Your kisses turbulent, unspent,
— — To warm me when I'm dead.

I want to die while you love me,
— — Oh, who would care to live
Till love has nothing more to ask
— — And nothing more to give!

I want to die while you love me
— — And never, never see
The glory of this perfect day

I walked one day on a lonely road,
My soul in deep despair.
I sought in vain to loose the load,
That sin, my sin, had planted there.

When in the distance I perceived,
A man bent low with care.
He bore in agony a cross,
That sin, my sin, had planted there.

I cried aloud as He drew near,
His hands were pierced and torn.
His grief so far outweighed my own,
And I had dared to mourn.

His eyes of love were turned on me,
His voice was soft and free.
" Why bear you still the load I took,

I vow to thee, my country — all earthly things above —
Entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love,
The love that asks no question: the love that stands the test,
That lays upon the altar the dearest and the best:
The love that never falters, the love that pays the price,
The love that makes undaunted the final sacrifice.
And there's another country, I've heard of long ago —
Most dear to them that love her, most great to them that know —
We may not count her armies; we may not see her King —

I took leave of my beloved one evening: how I wish
I had rather tasted death than been away from him!
I find that even the sun complains of love for him,
And the doves weep with the pain of loving him:
The evenings seem so feeble after he has left,
As if they also felt the pain of what I now suffer,
The breeze began to carry the feelings of our love,
And became soft with love, its breath grew fragrant,
The dew of the garden was mixed in the morning
With the sweet fragrance of remembrance of him,

I met this lovely scene once before, on horseback,
but then I was constrained by official duties.
Now I have retired, and nothing holds me back:
I've earned the chance to look carefully
at the eastern mountains.

I PRAY thee, Dante, shouldst thou meet with Love
In any place where Lapo then may be,
That there thou fail not to mark heedfully
If Love with lover's name that man approve;
If to our Master's will his lady move
Aright, and if himself show fealty:
For ofttimes, by ill custom, ye may see
This sort profess the semblance of true love.
Thou know'st that in the court where Love holds sway
A law subsists, that no man who is vile
Can service yield to a lost woman there.
If suffering aught avail the sufferer,

I love thee when thy swelling buds appear,
And one by one their tender leaves unfold,
As if they knew that warmer suns were near
Nor longer sought to hide from winter's cold;
And when with darker growth thy leaves are seen
To veil from view the early robin's nest,
I love to lie beneath thy waving skreen
With limbs by summer's heat and toil opprest;
And when the autumn winds have stript thee bare,
And round thee lies the smooth untrodden snow,
When nought is thine that made thee once so fair,

I lost the love of heaven above,
I spurned the lust of earth below,
I felt the sweets of fancied love,
And hell itself my only foe.

I lost earth's joys, but felt the glow
Of heaven's flame abound in me,
Till loveliness and I did grow
The bard of immortality.

I loved, but woman fell away;
I hid me from her faded fame.
I snatched the sun's eternal ray
And wrote till earth was but a name.

In every language upon earth,
On every shore, o'er every sea,
I gave my name immortal birth

I shall say what inordinat love is:
The furiosite and wodness of minde,
A instinguible brenning fawting blis,
A gret hungre, insaciat to finde,
A dowcet ille, a ivell swetness blinde,
A right wonderfulle, sugred, swete errour,
Withoute labour rest, contrary to kinde,
Or withoute quiete to have huge labour.