love poems for her

I said: This is a beautiful fresh rose.
I said: I will delight me with its scent;
Will watch its lovely curve of languishment,
Will watch its leaves unclose, its heart unclose.
I said: Old earth has put away her snows,
All living things make merry to their bent,
A flower is come for every flower that went
In autumn, the sun glows, the south wind blows.
So walking in a garden of delight
I came upon one sheltered shadowed nook
Where broad leaf shadows veiled the day with night,
And there lay snow unmelted by the sun:—

I said to heaven that glowed above
O hide yon sun-filled zone,
Hide all the stars you boast;
For, in the world of love
And estimation true,
The heaped-up harvest of the moon
Is worth one barley-corn at most,
The Pleiads' sheaf but two.

If my darling should depart,
And search the skies for prouder friends,
God forbid my angry heart
In other love should seek amends.

When the blue horizon's hoop
Me a little pinches here,
Instant to my grave I stoop,
And go find thee in the sphere.

I love thy music, mellow bell,
I love thine iron chime,
To life or death, to heaven or hell,
Which calls the Sons of Time.

Thy voice upon the deep
The homebound sea-boy hails,
It charms his cares to sleep,
It cheers him as he sails.

To house of God & heavenly joys
Thy summons called our sires,
And good men thought thy sacred voice
Disarmed the thunder's fires.

And soon thy music, sad death-bell!
Shall lift its notes once more,
And mix my requiem with the wind
That sweeps my native shore.

Mild health I seek thee wither art thou found
Mid daiseys sleeping in the morning dew
Along the meadow paths where all around
May smells so lovely thither would I go
Where art thou envious blessing now the cold
Is gone away & hedge & wood is seen
All lovely & the gay marsh marigold
Edges the meadow lakes so freshly green
My straining eye so anxious to behold
Thee up & journeying on the swallows wing
To see thee up & shining every where
Among the sweet companions of the spring

I'le doe my best to win, when'ere I wooe:
That man loves not, who is not zealous too.

I prest my Julia's lips, and in the kisse
Her Soule and Love were palpable in this.

Love's of it self, too sweet; the best of all
Is, when loves hony has a dash of gall.

Sweet is the woodbine's fragrant twine;
Sweet the ripe burthen of the vine;
The pea-bloom sweet, that scents the air,
The rose-bud sweet, beyond compare;
The perfume sweet of yonder grove;
Sweeter the lip of Her I love!

Soft the rich meadow's velvet green,
Where cowslip-tufts are early seen;
Soft the young cygnet's snowey breast;
Or down that lines the linnet's nest;
Soft the smooth plumage of the dove;
Softer the breast of Her I love!

Bright is the star that opes the day;
Bright the mid-noon's refulgent ray;

By the Vizier's soul and the ancient right And the covenant firm I swear,
My wont in the dawn for thy happiness Is still to offer prayer!

My tears, that Noah his flood surpass, From the tablet of my heart
A vail not to wash the script of love For thee that's graven there.

Come, traffic with me and buy this heart; For, broken though it be,
An hundred thousand hearts 'tis worth, Unworn of love and care.

Blame thou me not for debauchery; For Love, the Pilgrim's guide,
The tavern, upon Creation day, Appointed me to share.

I send a message, my worthy Chief,
For I cannot come to thee now.
Though my heart is o'erwhelmed with its weight of grief,
At God's stern decree I must bow.
They tell me that thou hast fallen asleep,
That thou didst discharge thy whole duty;
They say it is folly to sit here and weep,
For thy life was complete in its beauty.
And purity crowned thy declining years,
And holiness circled thy head—
'Tis folly they say to sit down here in tears,
And grieve o'er the tomb of the dead.