love poems

It started to burn,
but the firewood
of my passion
has rotted through.
Now I wait
in the dying dusk
for the smoke

How I envy them!
For it is not smoke
rising
from
fires of passion
that surrounds
those villagers
meeting
at break of day.

An old carriage
with its legs near to collapse
stops for a rest —
worn out from traveling far
on
the way

Where the bridge out at Woodley did stride,
Wi' his wide arches' cool sheäded bow,
Up above the clear brook that did slide
By the popples, befoam'd white as snow:
As the gilcups did quiver among
The white deäisies, a-spread in a sheet.
There a quick-trippen maid come along, —
Aye, a girl wi' her light-steppen veet.

An' she cried " I do praÿè, is the road
Out to Lincham on here, by the meäd? "
An' " oh! ees, " I meäde answer, an' show'd
Her the way it would turn an' would leäd:

When I gaze at it
these days,
lost in thoughts of love,
how deeply the moon's hue
seems dyed in sorrow

Does this love of mine
face one way only,
never perversely straying?
Rather it is the lemon grass in the meadow,
tossed in ever-shifting winds

" WHEN LOVE CAME FIRST "

When Love came first to Earth, the Spring
Spread rosebeds to receive him;
And back he vowed his flight he'd wing
To Heaven, if she should leave him.

But Spring departing saw his faith
Pledged to the next new comer —
He revelled in the warmer breath
And richer bowers of Summer.

Then sportive Autumn claimed by rights

AN ANACREONTIC ON LOVE

When a' the warld had clos'd their een,
Fatigu'd with labour, care, and din,
And quietly ilka weary wight
Enjoy'd the silence of the night;
Then Cupid, that ill-deedy geat,
With a' his pith rapt at my yeat.
Surpriz'd, throw sleep, I cry'd " Wha 's that? "
Quoth he " A poor young wean a' wat;
" Oh! haste ye apen, — fear nae skaith,
" Else soon this storm will be my death. "

With his complaint my soul grew wae,

High above the wrecks of ages,
Brightening all of hist'ry's pages,
Love has shone,
Planet-like, in life's dark heaven,
" Sweetest boon to mortals given, "
Sweet alone!

Life is brief, but Love 's eternal,
Always young, as Spring is vernal,
Always strong.
Give me love in largest measure,
From your hearts' abundant treasure,
Is my song.

High above the wrecks of ages,
Brightening all of hist'ry's pages,
Love has shone,
Planet-like, in life's dark heaven,

O love, all love above,
Why hast thou struck me so?
All my heart, broke atwo,
Consumed in flames of love,
Burning and flaming cannot find solace;
It cannot fly from torment, being bound;
Like wax among live coal it melts apace;
It languishes alive, no help being found;
Seeking a grace to fly a little space,
A glowing furnace is its narrow pound.
In such a deadly swound,