love poems for her

True lovers are omnipotent:
They step from peak to peak,
From star to star
In happy pilgrimage,
To the kind Universe alone, responsible.

Prithee, Billy,
Ben't so silly
Thus to waste thy days in grief;
You say Betty
Will not let you,
But can sorrow give relief?

Leave repining,
Cease your whining,
Pox on torment, grief and woe;
If she's tender
She'll surrender,
If she's tough—e'en let her go.

So Love is dead that has been quick so long!
Close, then, his eyes, and bear him to his rest,
With eglantine and myrtle on his breast,
And leave him there, their pleasant scents among;
And chant a sweet and melancholy song
About the charms whereof he was possessed,
And how of all things he was loveliest,
And to compare with aught were him to wrong.
Leave him beneath the still and solemn stars,
That gather and look down from their far place
With their long calm our brief woes to deride,
Until the Sun the Morning's gate unbars

Come, you whose loves are dead,
And, whiles I sing,
Weep, and wring
Every hand, and every head
Bind with cypress and sad yew;
Ribbons black and candles blue
For him that was of men most true!

Come with heavy mourning,
And on his grave
Let him have
Sacrifice of sighs and groaning;
Let him have fair flowers enow,
White and purple, green and yellow,
For him that was of men most true!

O Love , O thou that, for my fealty,
Only in torment dost thy power employ,
Give me, for God's sake, something of thy joy,
That I may learn what good there is in thee.
Yea, for, if thou art glad with grieving me,
Surely my very life thou shalt destroy
When thou renew'st my pain, because the joy
Must then be wept for with the misery.
He that had never sense of good, nor sight,
Esteems his ill estate but natural,
Which so is lightlier borne: his case is mine.
But, if thou wouldst uplift me for a sign,

When round the paths of boyhood fell the eternal
Pure light of morning, mixed with heaven's own gleams;
When heaven's own emeralds through the foliage vernal
Shone, heaven's own sapphires on the sunlit streams;

Then, in those days when all the world was fairer
Than ever again this sombre world will be;
Then, when the silver moon, love's standard-bearer,
Poured stainless light upon a sinless sea;

Then, in those days, I loved—and in strong fashion.
“Dream-love,” you say? But dream-love is sublime.

I know that his eyes look into mine,
With a joy tongue cannot tell,
And I drink of the cup of love's sweet wine,
And my heart says, “All is Well.”

I know my heart is all my own,
Enchained by love's sweet spell,
That I reign as a Queen on a golden throne,
And my heart says all is well.

Yest'reven, the wind brought news Of the Loved One from oversea:
I also, I gave my heart To the breeze; let what will be!

My case to such straits is come That the gleaming lightning's flash
A confidant is each night And each morrow the wind for me.

My faithless heart, in the plait Of thy browlocks caged, saith ne'er,
“The old accustomed abode Be holden in memory!”

The worth of the counsel of friends And dear ones I know to day.
O Lord, may our counsellors' hearts Be gladdened, I pray, of Thee!

I hope my child'll
Never love a man.
I say I hope my child'll
Never love a man.
Love can hurt you
Mo'n anything else can.

I'm goin' down to the river
An' I ain't goin' there to swim;
Down to the river,
Ain't goin' there to swim.
My true love's left me
And I'm goin' there to think about him.

Love is like whiskey,
Love is like red, red wine.
Love is like whiskey,
Like sweet red wine.
If you want to be happy
You got to love all the time.

I'm goin' up in a tower

I love the secret place of prayer,
The shining mercy seat;
My precious Lord is always there
And fellowship is sweet.

How blest a refuge when the way
Has seemed so hard to see,
How wonderful to hear Him say,
“Nothing's too hard for Me.”

Alone with God in quietness,
Apart from earthly care,
I praise Him for the blessedness
Of every answered prayer.

My precious Lord invites me to
This privilege so rare—
That's why I love the secret place,
The secret place of prayer!