love poems

Fair is my Love, for April in her face;
Her lovely breasts September claims his part;
And lordly J u ly in her eyes takes place;
But cold December dwelleth in her heart:
Blest be the months that sets my thoughts on fire!
Accurst that month that hind'reth my desire!

Like Phoebus' fire, so sparkles both her eyes;
As air perfumed with amber is her breath;
Like swelling waves her lovely teats do rise;
As earth her heart, cold, dateth me to death:
Ay me, poor man, that on the earth do live,

Phillis kept sheep along the western plains,
And Coridon did feed his flocks hard by:
This shepherd was the flower of all the swains,
That traced the downs of fruitful Thessaly,
And Phillis, that did far her flocks surpass
In silver hue, was thought a bonny lass.

A bonny lass, quaint in her country 'tire,
Was lovely Phillis, Coridon swore so;
Her locks, her looks, did set the swain on fire.
He left his lambs, and he began to woo,
He looked, he sithed, he courted with a kiss:
No better could the silly swad than this.

Lovely Maya, Hermes' mother,
Of fair Flora much befriended,
To whom this sweet month is commended,
This month more sweet than any other,
By thy sweet sovereignty defended.

Daisies, cowslips, and primroses,
Fragrant violets, and sweet mynthe,
Matched with purple hyacinth:
Of these, each where, nymphs make trim posies,
Praising their mother Berycinth.

Behold, a herd of jolly swains
Go flocking up and down the mead.
A troop of lovely nymphs do tread,
And dearnly dancing on yon plains,

Ah were she pitiful as she is fair,
Or but as mild as she is seeming so,
Then were my hopes greater than my despair;
Then all the world were heaven, nothing woe.
Ah were her heart relenting as her hand,
That seems to melt even with the mildest touch,
Then knew I where to seat me in a land,
Under wide heavens, but yet [there is] not such.
So as she shows, so seems the budding rose,
Yet sweeter far than is an earthly flower;
Sovereign of beauty like the spray she grows,
Compass'd she is with thorns and canker's flower;

Twenty years on the road of love
but the road is still unmapped.
Sometimes I was the victor.
More often the vanquished.
Twenty years, O book of love
and still on the first page.

ACT . IV. S CEN. VI.

Lucasia, Eumela, Charistus, Olyndus. Luc .

I must confess, had not this Action been
Tainted with private Interest, but born
From zeal unto the Publique, then it might
Have been read Valour, as it is, it will
Be stil'd but Fury. Eum .
Madam it had then
Been only Valour, now 'tis Love and Valour. Luc .
Where those Religious Names, King, Country, Father,
Are trampled over, can you call it Valour? Cha .
If trampled o'r for you. To hazard all

When as the rye reach to the chin,
And chopcherry, chopcherry ripe within,
Strawberries swimming in the cream,
And school-boys playing in the stream;
Then O, then O, then O my true love said,
Till that time come again,
She could not live a maid.

All ye that lovely lovers be,
Pray you for me;
Lo, here we come a-sowing, a-sowing,
And sow sweet fruits of love;
In your sweet hearts well may it prove!

Lo, here we come a-reaping, a-reaping,
To reap our harvest-fruit!
And thus we pass the year so long,
And never be we mute.

II

Years have flown since I knew thee first,
And I know thee as water is known of thirst;
Yet I knew thee of old at the first sweet sight,
And thou art strange to me, Love, tonight.

Sums up Love, Life, Liberation, Etc.

The world is hungry for Beauty;
With eager and terrible eyes
It strains to its passionate bosom
Each tawdry and tender surprise.

Common and liberal and holy,
The songs of its spirit ascend —
Lavish and casual and conquering,
Reckless and glad — at the end!