love poems

1

We left the Church at Tamerton
In gloomy western air;
To greet the day we gallop'd on,
A merry-minded pair.
The hazy East hot noon did bode;
Our horses sniff'd the dawn;
We made ten Cornish miles of road
Before the dew was gone.
We clomb the hill where Lanson's Keep
Fronts Dartmoor's distant ridge;
Thence trotted South; walk'd down the steep

My love is the flaming Sword
To fight through the world;
Thy love is the Shield to ward,
And the Armour of the Lord
And the Banner of Heaven unfurled.

The wine of Love is music,
— And the feast of Love is song:
And when Love sits down to the banquet,
— Love sits long:

Sits long and arises drunken,
— But not with the feast and the wine;
He reeleth with his own heart,
— That great, rich Vine.

Give a man a horse he can ride,
Give a man a boat he can sail;
And his rank and wealth, his strength and health,
On sea nor shore shall fail.

Give a man a pipe he can smoke,
Give a man a book he can read:
And his home is bright with a calm delight,
Though the room be poor indeed.

Give a man a girl he can love,
As I, O my love, love thee;
And his heart is great with the pulse of Fate,
At home, on land, on sea.

All, all is thine, love, now: Each thought and hope
In the long future must be shared with thee.
Lean on my bosom; let my strong heart ope
Its founts of love, that the wild ecstacy
That quickens every pulse, and makes me free
As a God's wishes, may serenely move
Thy inmost being with the mystery
Of the new life that has just dawned, and prove
How unutterably deep and strong is Human Love.

Already thou art gone, with one last look
Of love from those exalted eyes of thine,
That cheered me as we read from nature's book
Together, and partook of the divine
Ambrosial draught of love's celestial wine.
Another earnest being at my side! —
Not her whose Girlhood's dreamy love was mine;
Not her whose heart Affliction's fire has tried;
Not her of the Artistic soul, and stately pride,

Let us return, love, for the goal is won.
Here, by this Rock, 'tis doomed that we must part,
And part forever; for the glorious Sun
Of Love, that quickeneth my earnest heart,
Shines not for thee, alone. The Dream of Art
That calms the happy Student's sweet repose,
Is like our Dream of Love — the first swift dart
Shot by young Phaebus from his chamber, goes
Like lightning through his vision's blooming heart of rose.

Is there a soul so dead to nature's charms,
That thrills not here in this divine retreat?
Love lures me evermore to Woman's arms,
But here I kneel at Nature's hallowed feet!
Love fills my being with a calm, replete,
But regal Nature sets my spirit free
With grateful praises to God's Mercy seat.
Yet nature binds me closer, love, to thee:
Ev'n as this dreamy Bay, in sweet felicity;

Our spirits are as one. The morning, love,
Will part us. We have lived an age to-night.
Love is immortal. Hope is from above.
Sit nearer to me, for thine eyes are bright
With tears. There is a fairer land in sight.
Our love is sphered with truth. Eternity
Will crown that love, if we but love aright;
If Love be Truth, indeed. Soft-eyed one! we
Must seek beyond the veil what here can never be!

The stream reflects these cottages, like swans
Reposing on its surface, or faint dreams
But half remembered when the morning dawns,
And tremulous sleep wakes with the day's first beams.
Past the monotonous " Capes . " The moonlight gleams
Full on the mossy slopes and banks that lie
Along the silent shores, as well beseems
So fair a region. Why, love, dost thou sigh?
But wherefore ask, loved one? My own heart tells me why: