love poems

Wishfully I look and languish
In that bonie face o' thine,
And my heart it sounds wi' anguish,
Lest my wee thing be na mine.

[Chorus] Bonie wee thing, cannie wee thing,
Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,
I wad wear thee in my bosom,
Lest my jewel it should tine.

Wit and Grace, and Love, and Beauty,
In ae constellation shine;
To adore thee in my duty,
Goddess o' this soul o' mine!
[Chorus]

The Sunbeam loved the Moonbeam,
And followed her low and high,
But Moonbeam fled and hid her head,
She was so shy – so shy.

The Sunbeam wooed with passion;
Ah, he was a lover bold!
And his heart was afire with mad desire
For the moonbeam pale and cold.

She fled like a dream before him,
Her hair was a shining sheen,
And oh, that Fate would annihilate
The space that lay between!

Just as the day lay panting
In the arms of the twilight dim,

When Love was born of heavenly line,
What dire intrigues disturbed Cythera's joy!
Till Venus cried, 'A mother's heart is mine;
None but myself shall nurse my boy,'

But, infant as he was, the child
In that divine embrace enchanted lay;
And, by the beauty of the vase beguiled,
Forgot the beverage--and pined away.

'And must my offspring languish in my sight?'
(Alive to all a mother's pain,
The Queen of Beauty thus her court addressed)
'No: Let the most discreet of all my train

The brook leaps riotous with its life just found,
That freshets from the mountain rains have fed,
Beats at the boulders in its hindered bed,
And fills the valley with its triumphing sound.
The strong unthirsty tarn sunk in deep ground
Has never a sigh wherewith its wealth is said,
Has no more ripples than the May-flies tread:
Silence of waters is where they abound.

And love, whatever love, sure, makes small boast:
'Tis the new lovers tell, in wonder yet.
Oh happy need! Enriched stream's jubilant gush!

When we said ``I am thine'' and ``I am thine,''
We were as children crying a delight
Their hearts indeed divine
But cannot understand
The perfect wholeness of its depth and height;
Urged by a power beyond our reach
Our tongues outran our hearts in speech:
But now, O now, when we together stand
And lay each trusting hand in hand,
At last within our hearts the rose
Of love doth fearfully unclose
To the full meaning of our marriage vow.
We give not to each other only now

Young martyrs of the war,
Who with your bright eyes star
The shadows grey;
Who steal at dawn and gloam
In each beloved room
So pale, so gay.

Boys who will not grow old,
Peach cheek and hair of gold,
Smile and are flown;
You will come back again,
In the darkness and the rain,
In the dusk, in the dawn.

Remember, oh, dear Two,
Two who came after you
Who love, as you loved,
The grey house and the woods,
All the sweet solitudes
You loved, approved.

Long time beside the squatter's gate
A great grey Box-Tree, early, late,
Or shine or rain, in silence there
Had stood and watched the seasons fare:
Had seen the wind upon the plain
Caress the amber ears of grain;
The river burst its banks and come
Far past its belt of mighty gum:
Had seen the scarlet months of drought
Scourging the land with fiery knout;
And seasons ill and seasons good
Had alternated as they would.
The years were born, had grown and gone,
While suns had set and suns had shone;

Sweet the song Anacreon sings,
Sweet notes flow from Sappho's strings:
Pindar's strains, their sweets among,
Add, to crown the bowl of song.
Such a triple charm would sure
Dionysus' lips allure;
Paphos' sleek-skinn'd queen would deign,
Or Love's self, the cup to drain.

Love me for Love's sake till the dream is done,
And when we waken let us part for aye!
No bond but this; it is the better way,
For life spun so may easy be unspun,
The gain or loss directly reckoned on
What is and was; since marriage is no more
When either heart is like a sapless core
That has no sense of the maturing sun.
All comes at last to this, and surely we
Shall never waken if the dream is true,
Never put by the heart's reality,
Nor either ever find another who
Shall take from us the tender poesy

The blossoming of love is strange and wondrous!

When I acquired the knowledge of love,
I dreaded the mosque.
I fled to my lord’s dwelling,
Where a thousand sounds reverberate.

When love revealed its mystery to me,
The parroted words vanished.
Inside and out, I was cleansed.
I saw my beloved wherever I looked.

Heer and Ranjha are already one.
But Heer, deluded, still searches the woods.
Her Ranjha is with her,
And she doesn’t even know it.

I am tired of reading the Vedas and the Koran!