love poems

1

Odd rot it what a shame it is
 That love should puzzles grow
That we the one we seek should miss
 And change from top to toe
  The Gilafers a Gilafer
And nature owns the plan
And strange a thing it is to me
A man cant be a man

2

I traced the woods and mountains brow
And felt as feels a man
Love pleased me then that puzzles now
 E'en do the best I can
Nature her same green mantle spread
 And boundless is her span
The same bright sun is o'er my head
 But I can't be a man

Off with sleep, love, up from bed,
This fair morn;
See, for our eyes the rosy red
New dawn is born;
Now that skies are glad and gay
In this gracious month of May,
Love me, sweet;
Fill my joy in brimming measure;
In this world he hath no pleasure
That will none of it.

Come, love, through the woods of spring,
Come walk with me;
Listen, the sweet birds jargoning
From tree to tree.
List and listen, over all
Nightingale most musical
That ceases never;
Grief begone, and let us be

Billy Hill , 1936

You've got to give
A little,
Take
A little,
And let your poor heart break
A little.
That's the story of,
That's the glory of love.
You've got to laugh
A little,
Cry
A little,
Before the clouds roll by
A little.
That's the story of,
That's the glory of love.
As long as there's the two of us,
We've got the world and all its charms.
And when the world is through with us,
We've got each other's arms.

O whare hae ye been, my dearest dear,
These seven lang years and more?
O I am come to seek my former vows
That ye promis'd me before.

Awa wi' your former vows, she says,
Or else ye will breed strife;
Awa wi' your former vows, she says,
For I'm become a wife.

I am married to a ship-carpenter,
A ship-carpenter he 's bound;
I wadna he ken'd my mind this nicht
For twice five hundred pound.

[I have seven ships upon the sea
Laden with the finest gold,
And mariners to wait us upon;

O waly, waly, up the bank,
And waly, waly, down the brae,
And waly, waly, yon burn side,
Where I and my love were wont to gae.

I leant my back upon an oak
I thought it was a trusty tree;
But first it bent, and then it broke,
Just as my love proved false to me.

O waly, waly, love is bonny,
A little while when it is new;
But when it's old, it waxes cold,
And fades away like morning dew.

O wherefore should I busk my head?
O wherefore should I comb my hair?
For my true love has me forsook,

Sam H. Stept (with Bud Green) , 1928

VERSE 1

Love, love, love, love,
What did you do to me?
The things I never missed
Are things I can't resist.
Love, love, love, love,
Isn't it plain to see?
I just had a change of heart,
What can it be?

REFRAIN 1

She's got eyes of blue,
I never cared for eyes of blue,
But she's got eyes of blue,
And that's my weakness now.
She's got dimpled cheeks,

O Thou who camest from above,
The pure, celestial fire t' impart,
Kindle a flame of sacred love
On the mean altar of my heart;
There let it for thy glory burn
With inextinguishable blaze,
And trembling to it's Source return,
In humble prayer, and fervent praise.

Jesus, confirm my heart's desire
To work, and speak, and think for thee,
Still let me guard the holy fire,
And still stir up thy gift in me,
Ready for all thy perfect will
My acts of faith and love repeat,
'Till death thy endless mercies seal,

O thou Most High who rulest all
And hear'st the prayers of thine,
O hearken, Lord, unto my suit
And my petition sign.

Into Thy everlasting arms Of mercy
I commend Thy servant, Lord.
Keep and preserve My husband,
my dear friend.

At Thy command, O Lord, he went,
Nor nought could keep him back.
Then let Thy promise joy his heart,
O help and be not slack.

Uphold my heart in Thee, O God.
Thou art my strength and stay,
Thou see'st how weak and frail I am,
Hide not Thy face away.

O Love , who all this while hast urged me on,
Shaking the reins, with never any rest,—
Slacken for pity somewhat of thy haste;
I am oppress'd with languor and foredone,—
Having outrun the power of sufferance,—
Having much more endured than who, through faith
That his heart holds, makes no account of death.
Love is assuredly a fair mischance,
And well may it be called a happy ill:
Yet thou, my lady, on this constant sting,
So sharp a thing, have thou some pity still,—
Howbeit a sweet thing too, unless it kill.

O Brother man! fold to thy heart thy brother;
Where pity dwells, the peace of God is there;
To worship rightly is to love each other,
Each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer.

Follow with reverent steps the great example
Of Him whose holy work was " doing good " ;
So shall the wide earth seem our Father's temple,
Each loving life a psalm of gratitude.

Then shall all shackles fall; the stormy clangor
Of wild war music o'er the earth shall cease;
Love shall tread out the baleful fire of anger,