love poems for her

You call me cold: you wonder why
The marble of a mien like mine
Gives fiery sparks of Poesy,
Or softens at Love's touch divine.

Go, look on Nature, you will find
It is the rock that feels the sun:
But you are blind,—and to the blind
The touch of ice and fire is one.

For years of lonely thought, in morning-tide
Of life, will make a spirit all unfit
To brook of men the waywardness and pride;
Too proud itself to woo, or to submit;
Scorning, as vile, what all adore beside,
And deeming only glorious the soul lit
With the pure flame of knowledge, and the eye
Fill'd with the gentle love of the bright earth and sky.

I love thee, yet I fear. Behold I stand
Before a spotless judge. Thy soul I see,
Holding the balance with a steady hand,
That doth not tremble as thou look'st on me.
Before those light-filled eyes of equity,
Before those features, beautiful, austere,
I cannot stand. How feel thy soul so near
And feel myself unstained, pure, clean and whole?
I love thee,—yea, I love thee,—but I fear
I fear the comment of thy spotless soul.

It's dark
Switch on the poem
please
(click)
thank you
I love you
(and it was light)
but I'll still
I'll still be loving you
when
(click)
(end of light poem)
it's dark again.











Used by permission of the author.

The train draws forth from the station-yard,
And with it carries me.
I rise, and stretch out, and regard
The platform left, and see
An airy slim blue form there standing,
And know that it is she.

While with strained vision I watch on,
The figure turns round quite
To greet friends gaily; then is gone. . . .
The import may be slight,
But why remained she not hard gazing
Till I was out of sight?

"O do not chat with others there,"
I brood. "They are not I.
O strain your thoughts as if they were

The sigh of the wind in the soft belahs,
Is in tune with my thoughts to-night;
That dwell as I stray 'neath the steel bright stars
On a love that was pure and white.

And I start and thrill as I backward move,
For a face to me close I see;
Oh, surely the pow'r of a deathless love
Must be bringing you back to me!

For the thrill of that dear old love is sweet,
And it sinks to my heart's sad core;
As fresh as it did ere a soul's defeat
O'erwhelmed it in days of yore.

You say my love is but a man.
But I can find more odds
'Twixt him and others that I can
Find between him and gods.
He has in's eye
Such-majesty,
His shape is so divine
That were I owner of the world
He only should be mine.

Thinking of those who walked here long ago
On this greenway in summer and in snow
She said, ‘This is the oldest road we tread,
The oldest in the world?’ ‘Yes, love,’ I said.

Ah, Love, I sink in the timeless sleep,
Sink in the timeless sleep;
One Image stands before my eyes,
And thrills my bosom's deep:
One Vision bathes in radiant light
My spirit's palace-halls;
All stir of hand, all throb of brain,
Quivers, and sinks, and falls.
My soul fares forth; no fetters now
Chain me to this world's shore.
Sleep! I would sleep! In pity spare;
Let no man wake me more!

I SING not Love prose-mated
With Pride or Sense, soon sated,
Where give and take are rated
In terms of bargain-buyer;
Nor Love that sells her dearly
For so much shelter yearly,
As Cupid's torch were merely
To light the kitchen fire;

Nor Love that lingers, longing,
In reasoned absence, wronging
The soul's desires, thronging
As pleading angels bend;
Nor Love that never misses
The mate's estrangèd kisses,
And is, of former blisses,
Content to keep—a friend;

Nor prudish Love repressive