love poems for her

Trust me, I have not earned your dear rebuke,
I love, as you would have me, God the most;
Would lose not Him, but you, must one be lost,
Nor with Lot's wife cast back a faithless look
Unready to forego what I forsook;
This say I, having counted up the cost,
This, tho' I be the feeblest of God's host,
The sorriest sheep Christ shepherds with His crook.
Yet while I love my God the most, I deem
That I can never love you overmuch;
I love Him more, so let me love you too;
Yea, as I apprehend it, love is such

I loved you first: but afterwards your love
Outsoaring mine, sang such a loftier song
As drowned the friendly cooings of my dove
Which owes the other most? my love was long,
And yours one moment seemed to wax more strong;
I loved and guessed at you, you construed me
And loved me for what might or might not be—
Nay, weights and measures do us both a wrong.
For verily love knows not “mine” or “thine;”
With separate “I” and “thou” free love has done,
For one is both and both are one in love:

It matters not its history—Love has wings,
Like lightning, swift and fatal; and it springs,
Like a wild flower, where it is least expected;
Existing, whether cherished or rejected.

A mystery art thou!—thou mighty one!
We speak thy name in beauty; yet we shun
To say thou art our guest; for who will own
His life thy empire, and his heart thy throne?

Glory to God on high;
Forever bless his name;
Let earth, and seas, and sky,
His wondrous love proclaim.
To him be praise and glory giv'n,
By all on earth and all in heav'n.

O is it Love or is it Fame,
This thing for which I sigh?
Or has it then no earthly name
For men to call it by?

I know not what can ease my pains,
Nor what it is I wish;
The passion at my heart-strings strains
Like a tiger in a leash.

'T IS not your beauty can engage
—My wary heart;
The sun, in all his pride and rage,
—Has not that art;
And yet he shines as bright as you,
If brightness could our souls subdue.

'Tis not the pretty things you say,
—Nor those you write,
Which can make Thyrsis' heart your prey:
—For that delight,
The graces of a well-taught mind,
In some of our own sex we find.

No, Flavia, 'tis your love I fear;
—Love's surest darts,
Those which so seldom fail him, are
—Headed with hearts:

Beneath love's heavy weight my falt'ring soul
Plods, like the packman, o'er life's dusty road.
Oh! that some friendly hand would find a pole
To ease my shoulders of their grievous load!

That eyes which pierced our inmost being through;
That lips which pressed into a single kiss,
It seemed, a whole eternity of bliss;
That cheeks which mantled with love's rosy hue;
That feet which wanted nothing else to do
But run upon love's errands, this and this;
That hands so fair they had not seemed amiss
Reached down by angels through the deeps of blue;—
That all of these so deep in earth should lie
While season after season passeth by;
That things which are so sacred and so sweet

I saw a cloud at break of day
On the Wind's high shoulders borne;
It looked like a meteor's dazzling ray,
In the azure vault forlorn:
I marvelled how a cloud so strange,
Should on Aurora's summit range.

I gazed until it rose above
The light of my quivering eye;
It journeyed to those realms of love,
Where the sun rolls blazing by:
It moved not as clouds are wont to do,
But swift to those mansions of bliss it flew.

I knew not what it then conveyed,
As it sped on its arrow-wing;

Oh, thou wilt never know how fond a love
This heart could have felt for thee;
Or ever dream how love and friendship strove,
Through long, long hours for mastery;
How passion often urged, but pride restrained,
Or how thy coldness grieved, but kindness pained.

How hours have soothed the feelings, then that were
The torture of my lonely life—
But ever yet will often fall a tear,
O'er wildest hopes and thoughts then rife;
Where'er recalled by passing word or tone,
Fond memory mirrors all those visions flown.