love poems for her

I know this perilous love-lane
No whither the traveller leads,
Yet my fancy the sweet scent of
Thy tangled tresses feeds.

In the midnight of thy locks,
I renounce the day;
In the ring of thy rose-lips,
My heart forgets to pray.

The chemist of love
Will this perishing mould,
Were it made out of mire,
Transmute into gold

The understanding's copper coin
Counts not with the gold of love.

Come my love the summers day
Has brought the Cuckows to green trees
Oh come my Mary come away
And let us share the woodland breeze
The woodland breeze I love to share
Where green leaves whisper all the day
Come hither with thy face so fair
Mary my loved one come away

I would not for a world of gold
Thy innocence from beauty steal
Sweet is thy face which I behold
All its Love memories I feel
The swaying boughs the shaking leaves
And every rural sight and sound
The soft wind secret spells he weaves

When out of bed my Love doth spring,
'Tis but as day a kindling:
But when She's up and fully drest,
'Tis then broad Day throughout the East.

Her love is like an island
In life's ocean, vast and wide,
A peaceful, quiet shelter
From the wind, the rain, the tide,

'Tis bound on the North by hope,
By patience on the West,
By tender Counsel on the South
And on the East by rest.

Above it like a beacon light
Shine faith, and truth and prayer;
And through the changing scenes of life
I find a haven there.

Yea, greater is the heart, the soul is freer,
The wind is nobler and the world profounder,
That, girt by ruffian jubilee's frippery gear,
Stands forth, the highest freedom's bold expounder!

Love the whole earth! Love not a single land
Because by chance “thy country” it is called!
A land is never free. Dost kiss the hand
Which into fetters thrust thee, and enthralled?

Oh! break the bonds of narrowness and night!
A scoundrel he that spake: This land for me!
Curse him that scanted thee and me the right

Yet what to her were burning seas,
Or what to him was forest flame?
They loved; they loved the glorious trees;
The gleaming tides might rise or fall,—
They loved the whispering winds that came
From sea-lost spice-set isles unknown,
With breath not warmer than their own;
They loved, they loved,—and that was all.

The Andalusian merchant, that returns
Laden with cochineal and china dishes,
Reports in Spain how strangely Fogo burns
Amidst an ocean full of flying fishes:
These things seem wondrous, yet more wondrous I,
Whose heart with fear doth freeze, with love doth fry.

Two strong streams of a land must run
Together surely as the sun
Succeeds the moon. Who shall gainsay
The gods that reign, that wisely reign?
Love is, love was, shall be again.
Like death, inevitable it is;
Perchance, like death, the dawn of bliss.
Let us, then, love the perfect day,
The twelve o'clock of life, and stop
The two hands pointing to the top,
And hold them tightly while we may.