love poems for her

When swing the morning-glory bells,
By marble pillar wreathing;
When o'er the perfumed violet dells
The morning zephyr's breathing,
That time I wander down a way
That myrtle sweet encloses,
And all about I pry and peep
For Love amongst the Roses.

A rosy brake I see ahead,
In golden vapour flushing;
My steps are winged, and on I speed,
The fragrant fortress crushing.
The dewy petals flutter fast—
The gap to me discloses,
Asleep upon the damask blooms,
Sweet Love amongst the Roses.

Turn from that mirage of a God on high
Holding the sceptre of a creed outworn,
And hearken to the faint half-human cry
Of Nature quickening with the God unborn!

The God unborn, the God that is to be,
The God that has not been since Time began,—
Hark,—that low sound of Nature's agony
Echoed thro' life and the hard heart of Man!

Fed with the blood and tears of living things,
Nourish'd and strengthen'd by Creation's woes,
The God unborn, that shall be King of Kings,
Sown in the darkness, thro' the darkness grows.

O Love, my love, and perfect bliss!
God in his goodness grant me this—
I see thee soon again.
Nought else I need to take away
The grief that for thy sake alway
Doth keep me in great pain.

Alas, I know not what to do,
Nor how to get good news and true:
Dear God, I pray to Thee;
If else Thou canst not comfort me,
Of Thy great mercy make that he
Send speedy news to me.

Within my father's garden alls
There is a tree—when April falls
It blossometh alway.
There wend I oft in winter drear,

My love for him shall be
Fair love and true:
For he loves me, I know,
And I love him, pardie!

And for I know that he
Doth love me so,
I should be all untrue
To love but him, pardie!

Beneath the branch of the green may
My merry heart sleeps happily,
Waiting for him who promised me
To meet me here again this day.

And what is that I would not do
To please my love so dear to me?
He loves me with leal heart and true,
And I love him no less, pardie.

Perchance I see him but a day;
Yet maketh he my heart so free—
His beauty so rejoiceth me—
That month thereafter I am gay.

Suffered for love such woe Have I, that ask not;
Drunk parting's poison so Have I, that ask not.

Travelled have I the world And now a charmer
Chosen, so sweet of show Have I, that ask not.

After the dust of that Her door for longing,
Eyes on such wise aflow Have I, that ask not.

With this mine ear, from out Her mouth, yest'reven,
Such sweet words hearkened, lo! Have I, that ask not.

At me why bite the lip, As saying, “Speak not?”
A ruby bitten, know, Have I, that ask not.

Love is blind, and a wanton;
In the whole world, there is scant one
Such another:
No, not his mother.
He hath plucked her doves, and sparrows,
To feather his sharp arrows,
And alone prevaileth,
While sick Venus waileth.
But if Cypris once recover
The wag; it shall behove her
To look better to him;
Or she will undo him.
(from Poetaster)

Let us go hence, my songs; she will not hear.
Let us go hence together without fear;
Keep silence now, for singing-time is over,
And over all old things and all things dear.
She loves not you nor me as all we love her.
Yes, though we sang as angels in her ear,
She would not hear.

Let us rise up and part; she will not know.
Let us go seaward as the great winds go,
Full of blown sand and foam; what help is there?
There is no help, for all these things are so,
And all the world is bitter as a tear.

In this same spot seven years ago the love-god found me
And with a wayward wreath of trivial sweet flowers crowned me,—
Seven wild long years ago.
In this same spot to-day a tender new love finds me
And here again the sweet and wayward love-god binds me
(Though love's bonds melt like snow!)

Ah! ever so it is. For ever and for ever
The love-god haunts our steps, and yet his chains are never
Abiding and supreme.
Love's breath is as the breath of summer's countless roses:
Yet when the sweet long month of sunlit gardens closes

Roll thee in my Lowlan plaidie
Nestle cozey by my side
Love wi me and be my ladie
And we love on in world sae wide

Ro[ll] thee in my Tartan Plaidie
Cozey sit upon my knee
In thy Tartan silk sweet lady
Thy lovely form is sweet to see

Ro[ll] thee in my Tartan Plaidie
Let me gaze upon thy charms
Thou a bonny beauteous lady
Come unto thy Lovers arms

With thy ancles scarce a span
Thou an armful art sweet lady
Come thou better half o'man
Ro[ll] thee in my Tartan Pladie