love poems

Sweet after storm to sailors' eyes
Are zephyrs in the vernal skies,
To thirsty lips a cup is sweet
Fresh cooled with snow in summer's heat;

But sweeter still when man and maid
Lie hidden close beneath one plaid
And in its warmth together pressed
Find all the might of love confessed.

Your eyes, Asclepias, have the pride
Of waves in summer weather,
Alluring all men to your side
To sail Love's sea together.

Now the white violets bloom, and now
The bluebells drink the rain,
And straying o'er the mountain's brow
The lilies flower again.
Spring perfumes sweet men's hearts enthral,
But Zeno's sweeter far than all.

In vain ye smile, O meadows gay!
The allurement of the rose
Outshines the blossoms ye display,
Her beauty warmer glows.
Lovers must choose my Zeno fair,
The rose of love beyond compare.

Wise words Persuasion's help desire,
The Muses love the sounding lyre,
And Love does ever shine more fair
When Heniochus is there.

By thee I swore I'd keep away
And from my love two nights would stay;
Dear Venus, when I made the vow
Right merry was your laugh, I trow.

You knew full well I could not bear
More than one night without my dear,
And now that night is left behind
I cast my promise to the wind.

'Twere better, sure, my vow to break
Since it will be for Love's dear sake;
Rather than keep my oath to thee
And die of my own piety.

Though my love may slender be,
She is plump enough for me.
When I lie upon her heart
Nothing keeps us then apart.

See, 'tis an apple I throw you,
Your heart to prove,
Token of all that I vow you,
If you will love;
Take it, my sweetest, and bring to my arms
All the fresh fragrance of maiden-hood's charms.

But if you mean to deny me —
Heaven forfend —
Think ere with " No" you reply me
Of beauty's end;
Look at this apple and see how its bloom
Swiftly will fade and to rottenness come.

Full well I know the grief and smart
That is and will be mine:
Not vain your warning, O poor heart;
But still for love I pine.

From Heliodora fly' — But how?
I have nor strength nor shame.
The very thoughts that warn me glow
Enraptured at her name.

I like not grapes that still are green,
I like not grapes that pressed have been,
And so I would not choose to woo
Widow Glum or Maiden Prue.
Compassion suits the widowed dame,
Respect is due to virgin shame:
My wife a beauty ripe shall be
To tread the courts of Love with me.

Venus, ruler of the waves,
Who the storm-tossed seaman saves,
As a helper by me stand,
For I shipwreck make on land.