love poems

Old Time is a pilgrim — with onward course
He journeys for months, for years;
But the trav'ller to-day must halt perforce —
Behold, a broad river appears!
" Pass me over, " Time cried; " O! tarry not,
For I count each hour with my glass:
Ye whose skiff is moored to yon pleasant spot —
Young maidens, old Time come pass! "

Many maids saw with pity, upon the bank,
The old man with his glass in grief;
Their kindness, he said, he would ever thank,
If they'd row him across in their skiff.

O! 'twas all but a dream at the best —
And still when happiest, soonest o'er:
But e'en in a dream to be blest
Is so sweet, that I ask for no more!
The bosom that opes
With earliest hopes
The soonest finds those hopes untrue;
Like flowers that first
In spring-time burst,
The soonest wither too!
Oh, 'twas all but, &c.

By friendship we've oft been deceived,
And love, even love, too soon is past;
But friendship will still be believed,
And love trusted on to the last;

Now in the chapel, ye shall understand,
When sat those knights and ladies, gazing all
On one another, ranged on either hand,
Ere that the chants began, it did befall
That Mano cast his eyes on Blanche the Fair;
And of a bitter love became the thrall;
Oh, bitterly love's thrall, Oh, then and there
So that, although erewhile to Italy
He had been purposed swiftly to repair,
His mind was changed, and he gan secretly
Devise to tarry longer in that place:
Which was his first fall from integrity

G ENTIE , but generous, modest, pure, and learned,
Ready to hear the fool, or teach the wise,
With gracious heart that all within him burned
To wipe the tears from virtue's blessed eyes,
And help again the struggling right to rise,
Such an one, like a god, have I discerned
Walking in goodness this polluted earth,
And cannot choose but love him: to my soul,
Swayed irresistibly with sweet control,
So rare and noble seems thy precious worth,
That the young fibres of my happier heart,

How fair and facile seems the upland road,
Surely the mountain air is fresh and sweet,
And briskly shall I bear this mortal load
With well-braced sinews and unweary feet;
How dear my fellow-pilgrims oft to meet
O'ertaken, as to reach yon blest abode
We strive together, in glad hope to greet,
With angel friends and our approving God,
All that in life we once have loved so well,
So that we loved be worthy: her bright wings
My willing spirit plumes, and upward springs
Rejoicing, over crag, and fen, and fell,

When Thou, in patient ministry,
Didst pass a stranger through Thy land,
Two costly gifts were offered Thee,
And each was from a woman's hand.

To Thee, who madest all things fair,
Twice fair and precious things they bring; —
Pure sculptured alabaster clear,
Perfumes for earth's anointed King.

Man's hasty lips would both reprove, —
One for the stain of too much sin,
One for the waste of too much love;
Yet both availed Thy smile to win.

The saint who listened at Thy feet,

He clothes thy soul in spotless dress,
In bridal raiment white and clean,
The spirit's bridal robe of peace,
Sign of the inward grace unseen.

The love that sweeps thy spirit o'er,
Effacing every stain of sin,
Flows through thy spirit evermore,
A well of heavenly life within.

Thus, hallowed names, forgotten long,
Familiar names which once were thine,
With all the old attraction strong,
Embrace thy soul from lips Divine.

Soft from a Father's house above
Floats down on thee the name of child,

F ORGIVENESS may then yet be mine,
The sinless lips have said " Forgiven; "
Pardon is then a right Divine,
And love indeed the law of heaven.

" But can the sullied snow grow white?
What spell can seal the memory fast?
What has been ever must have been ,
The Almighty cannot change the past.

" His eyes, though piercing as the light,
In pity may refuse to see;
But what can make my memory white?

He prized her love, He held it dear,
He felt each ministering touch,
He marked each gift she offered there,
He cared that she should love Him " much . "

His pity was no careless alms
The happy to the wretched fling;
He prized her love, her tears, her balms,
Then life was yet a precious thing;

Precious the love He held of price,
Precious each moment which might bring
Some privilege of sacrifice,

The very stars will rise and swing,
More radiant censors in the air,
No shadow fall on anything,
The red rose paint itself more fair,
So brief the hours, divine their sum,
When love is come, when love is come.

Beauty will fail from earth and sky,
Fragrance and song will lose their dower,
The world in dark eclipse will lie,
And all things wither in that hour
When still the heart beats on and on,
And love is gone, and love is gone.