love poems

Truth, be more precious to me than the eyes
Of happy love; burn hotter in my throat
Than passion; and possess me like my pride;
More sweet than freedom; more desired than joy;
More sacred than the pleasing of a friend.

True friendship unfeignid
Doth rest unrestrainid,
No terror can tame it:
Not gaining, nor losing,
Nor gallant gay glosing,
Can ever reclaim it.
In pain, and in pleasure,
The most truest treasure
That may be desirid,
Is loyal love deemid,
Of wisdom esteemid
And chiefly requirid.

True-blue the salmon—from his sally
Back to the redds he'll roam.
When weary of the towns' stale tally
Lovely to look to home.

The trouble with you is
You think all I want to do
Is get you into bed
And make love with you.

And that's not true!

I was just trying to make friends.
All I wanted to do
Was get into bed
With you and make

Love with you.

Who was that little bird we saw towering upside down
This afternoon on that pine cone, on the edge of a cliff,
In the snow? Wasn't he charming? Yes, he was, now,
Now, now,
Just take it easy.

I love to see the big white moon,
A-shining in the sky;
I love to see the little stars,
When the shadow clouds go by.

I love the rain drops falling
On my roof-top in the night;
I love the soft wind's sighing,
Before the dawn's gray light.

I love the deepness of the blue,
In my Lord's heaven above;
But better than all these things I think,
I love my lady love.

Too late, alas! I must confess,
— You need not arts to move me;
Such charms by nature you possess,
— 'Twere madness not to love ye.

Then spare a heart you may surprise,
— And give my tongue the glory
To boast, though my unfaithful eyes
— Betray a tender story.

In pity first to human kind,
Love taught the art of writing;
But soon deceit stepped in, we find,
And taught man false inditing.

False vows, false words, nay e'en false tears,
Soon after were invented;
And Love from each account appears
Almost to have repented

That he disclosed the magic art,
At first for gods intended,
By which he thought the virgin heart
Would be so much befriended.

What vows, what sighs on paper flow,
In words as sweet as honey!
They melt away like now-fall'n snow,

1. To thee, Eternal Soul, be praise! Who, from of old to our own days
2. We thank thee for each mighty one Through whom thy living light hath shone;
Through souls of saints and prophets, Lord, Hast sent thy light, thy love, thy word.
And for each humble soul and sweet That lights to heaven our wandering feet.

3. We thank thee for the love divine
Made real in every saint of thine;
That boundless love itself that gives
In service to each soul that lives.

4. We thank thee for the word of might
Thy Spirit spake in darkest night,

To stones trust not your monument
To make a living fame endure.
Who built Dun Angus battlement?
O'Flaherty is forgotten in Auchnanure.

And he who told how Troy was sacked
And what men clipt the lovely Burd,
Had seven Mayors to swear, in fact,
Their towns first heard his babbling word.

Each word of love a child doth speak,
It sows a flower, to bloom
Along its aged parent's path,
Descending to the tomb!

No more may blush the summer's rose
To glad their failing sight;
Nor to the ravished sense, as once,
Its fragrance give delight.

But every word of love they hear
Is treasured in the heart;
A bloom, a fragrance there to shed,
Which never can depart!