love poems

YELLOW-IRIS .

The German peasant wreathes his roof with flower in rich attire,
For sun-tressed Iris waves for him her urns of fragrant fire:
But we have let a holier gem our lowly home illume; —
The flower of love our lattice lights with undecaying bloom.

I loved my Art. I loved it when the tide
Was sweeping back my hopes upon the sand;
When I had missed the hollow of God's hand
Held over me, and there was none to guide.
I set my face towards it, raising high
My arm in token that I would be true
To all great motives, though I sorely knew
That there was one star wanting in my sky.
Touching the chords of many harmonies,
I needed one to make them all complete.
I heard it sound like thunder-gathered seas,
What time my soul knelt at my lady's feet.

CORNELIAN CHERRY-TREE .

Lady! my love for thee
Is like the cornel-tree; —
Once taken root, though slow, its growth is sure:
It is no passion-flower,
Lasting one summer-hour; —
While my heart lives — that feeling will endure.

TULIP .

Yes! by those eyes of azure glory,
Shedding their star-like smiles on me;
Yes! by that cheek, changing and glowing,
Warm as the plumage of yon bright lory,
By those ringlets so richly flowing,
Dearest, I love but thee!

Yes! by that foot of fairy fleetness,
Springing ever so light and free,

'Twas not the glossy, golden flow
Of tresses richly braided,
'Twas not the dimpled rose below,
Whose soul-fed smile they shaded!

Those dark-fringed eyes of brilliant blue,
Whose glances talk in light, love,
Thy fragrant lips' deep, carmine hue,
Thy hand so soft and slight, love;

It was not these — though these excel,
In thee, all others' beauty; —
It was not these, that wove the spell,
And won my love and duty.

Thy heart is like the Jasmine-bell,
It yields its wealth of feeling;

It was an old, a celebrated Church;
About the aisle ran many pillars tall,
And carved wood-work the chancel gathered in;
An old, worn Church, sad was the sight to see.
How lazy through the darkened window-panes,
The sun half-way withdrawn shone dimly down;
Across those clumsy frames the spiders wove,
A dull and heavy air of Sorrow hung
About the old worn pile; upon the Texts
Graven in gold over the chancel's steps.
But when, as comes the prelude to a storm,
The deep-toned organ waked the drowsy air,

" Vos plaudite!" th' imperial Roman said
To them that stood around his dying bed.
To those I love, who after me shall live,
This be my message — " Pity, and forgive!"

Beautiful darling!
Light of mine eyes!
Gay as the starling
Shoots thro' the skies;

Swift as the swallow, and
Soft as the dove;
Hopeless to follow, and
Maddening to love!

Ah when she dances! and
Ah when she sings!
Glamour of glances, and
Rush as of wings, —

Trill as of coming birds
Heard unaware, —

Lo if a man, magnanimous and tender,
Lo if a woman, desperate and true,
Make the irrevocable sweet surrender,
Show to each other what the Lord can do, —

Each, as I know, a helping and a healing,
Each to the other strangely a surprise,
Heart to the heart its mystery revealing,
Soul to the soul in melancholy eyes, —

Where wilt thou find a riving or a rending
Able to sever them in twain again?
God hath begun, and God's shall be the ending,
Safe in His bosom and aloof from men.

I love the time of Autumn's fading groves;
For with the sere and yellow leaf appears
A dreamy sadness, that my spirit loves,
And loves the more with my departing years.
How soft the light that lies on all the scene,
How sweet the stillness of the hazy noon,
When first succeed to Summer's living green
The Autumn splendors. Then the glorious moon
Sails in a purer heaven, and bright stars shed
A blessed radiance on the paths of men:
And they who walked with timid steps in dread
Of fell disease, at length breathe free again.