love poems

Brid one brere, brid, brid one brere,
Kind is come of love, love to crave.
Blithful brid on me, on me, thou rewe,
Or greith, lef, greith thou me my grave.

Ich am so blithe, so bright, brid on brere,
When I see that hende, hende in halle;
Hie is whit of lime, lovely, trewe,
Hie is fair and flowr, and flowr of alle.

Mighte ich hire at wille, wille have,
Stedefast of love, lovely, trewe,
Of my sorwe hie may, hie may me save
Joye and blisse were ere, were ere me newe.

Beloved, you are like thread in the loom
woven into a flowering tree of love!
I am like the flowers on your robe:
the spring wind blows but they won't drop off.

Body's desire that knows no end
the terrible power of a rising tide—
in the fire that flares up still more, perspiring,
salamanders twist and turn, dancing.

The ceaseless snow throws a feast of vol nuptial late at night
and shouts out joy in the hushed air.
Shattered by beauty and power
we then immerse ourselves in an esoteric flow
breathe in an aroused rosy haze
and reflected on the jewels in Indra's net
mold our lives inexhaustibly.

The cradling demon's power that lurks in winter

Breake now my heart and dye! Oh no, she may relent.
Let my despaire prevayle! Oh stay, hope is not spent.
Should she now fixe one smile on thee, where were despaire?
The losse is but easie which smiles can repayre.
A stranger would please thee, if she were as fayre.

Her must I love or none, so sweet none breathes as shee;
The more is my despayre, alas, shee loves not mee:
But cannot time make way for love through ribs of steele?
The Grecian, inchanted all parts but the heele,
At last a shaft daunted, which his hart did feele.

Bread is a lovely thing to eat —
God bless the barley and the wheat!

A lovely thing to breathe is air —
God bless the sunshine everywhere!

The earth's a lovely place to know —
God bless the folks that come and go!

Alive's a lovely thing to be —
Giver of life — we say — bless Thee!

The bood is beabig brighdly, love;
The sdars are shidig too;
While I ab gazig dreabily,
Add thigkig, love, of you.
You caddot, oh! you caddot kdow,
By darlig, how I biss you —
(Oh, whadt a fearful cold I've got! —
Ck- tish -u! Ck-ck- tish -u!)

I'b sittig id the arbor, love,
Where you sat by by side,
Whed od that calb, autubdal dight
You said you'd be by bride.

A BIRD in my bower
Sat calling, a-calling;
A bird answered low from the garden afar.
His note came with power,
While falling, a-falling,
Her note quivered faint as the light of a star.
" I am Life! I am Life! "
From the bower a-ringing,
Trilled forth a mad melody, soaring above;
" I am Love! I am Love! "
From the garden a-singing,
Came soft as a dream, and the echoes sang " Love. "

They joined, and together
Fast flying, a-flying,
Were lost to my gaze in the arch of the sky.

Before I melt,
Come, look at me!
This lovely icy filigree!
Of a great forest
In one night
I make a wilderness
Of white:
By skyey cold
Of crystals made,
All softly, on
Your finger laid,
I pause, that you
My beauty see:
Breathe, and I vanish

Behold, love, thy power how she despiseth!
My great pain how little she regardeth!
The holy oath, whereof she taketh no cure,
Broken she hath; and yet she bideth sure
Right at her ease and little she dreadeth.
Weaponed thou art, and she unarmed sitteth;
To the disdainful her life she leadeth,
To me spiteful without cause or measure,
Behold, love.

I am in hold: if pity thee moveth,
Go bend thy bow, that stony hearts breaketh,
And with some stroke revenge the displeasure
Of thee and him, that sorrow doth endure,

Because you are to me a song
I must not sing you over-long.

Because you are to me a prayer
I cannot say you everywhere.

Because you are to me a rose —
You will not stay when summer goes.