love poems for her

Remember dear Mary love cannot deceive
Loves truth cannot vary dear Mary believe
You may hear and believe it believe it and hear
Love could not deceive it those features so dear
Believe me dear Mary to press thy soft hand
Is sweeter than riches in houses and Land.

Where I pressed thy soft hand at the dew fall o' eve
I felt the sweet tremble that cannot deceive
If love you believe in Belief is my love
As it lived once in Eden ere we fell from above
To this heartless this friendless this desolate earth

T'was in the month of April when birds all merry sing
I took a walk to Kingsthorp right early i' the spring
I took a walk to Kingsthorp right early i' the day
And there I met my true love go barefoot by the way

Her ancles they were handsome and lovely was her feet
Her face was like an Irish girls and beautifully sweet
She passed me like a stranger I think I see her still
I could not tell my own true love in such a dissabille

Her eyes were like two diamonds and a woman all complete

Let faire or foule my Mistresse be,
Or low, or tall, she pleaseth me:
Or let her walk, or stand, or sit,
The posture hers, I'm pleas'd with it.
Or let her tongue be still, or stir,
Gracefull is ev'ry thing from her.
Or let her Grant, or else Deny,
My Love will fit each Historie.

He who wants to leave
Let him leave
He who wants to sleep
Let him sleep
And with the time saved
Be silent.

Of flowers as well
Of heaven as well
Of a grave as well

Don't rush
Be silent.

In your flesh
The callused wings
The river that doesn't flow
The idle, idle clouds,
The stars that never wake

Don't dream easily
Don't flow easily
Don't bloom easily

However
Seen with narrowed eyes:

He who wants to leave
His lonely leaving form,

The soul shall be drowned in the flood
Of mounting blood.
Be strong at least
To resist Love,
Except at his feast.

Love, with what strange tyrannick lawes must they
Comply, which are subjected to thy sway!
How far all justice thy commands decline,
Which though they hope forbid, yet love enjoyne!
Must all are to thy hell condemn'd sustain
A double torture of despaire and pain?
Is't not enough vainly to hope and wooe,
That thou shouldst thus deny that vain hope too?
It were some Joy Ixion-like to fold
The empty aire, or feed on hopes as cold;
But if thou to my passion this deny,
Thou may'st be starv'd to death as well as I.

Kiss me then, my merry May,
By the soul of love I pray!
Prithee, nay! Tell, tell me why?
If with you I sport and play,
My mother will be vexed to-day.
Tell me why, oh tell me why.

Unloved I love, unwept I weep,
Grief I restrain, hope I repress;
Vain is this anguish, fixed and deep,
Vainer desires or means of bliss.

My life is cold, love's fire being dead;
That fire self-kindled, self-consumed;
What living warmth erewhile it shed,
Now to how drear extinction doomed!

Devoid of charm how could I dream
My unasked love would e'er return?
What fate, what influence lit the flame
I still feel inly, deeply burn?

Alas! there are those who should not love;
I to this dreary band belong;

Each fickle art you try in vain
A constant breast to move;
For she who would be lov'd again,
Herself must learn to love.

While that the sun with his beams hot
Scorchéd the fruits in vale and mountain,
Philon the shepherd, late forgot,
Sitting beside a crystal fountain,
In shadow of a green oak-tree
Upon his pipe this song play'd he:

Adieu Love, adieu Love, untrue Love,
Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu Love;
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.

So long as I was in your sight
I was your heart, your soul, and treasure;
And evermore you sobb'd and sigh'd
Burning in flames beyond all measure: