love poems

Gather, O gather,
Foeman and friend in love and peace!
Waves sleep together
When the blasts that called them to battle, cease.
For fangless Power grown tame and mild
Is at play with Freedom's fearless child--
The dove and the serpent reconciled!

My rears
of longing
must share something in common
with the sky above:
for off there
in the distance
a cloud, too,
begins to shower.

My God, Thyself being Love Thy heart is love,
And love Thy Will and love Thy Word to us,
Whether Thou show us depths calamitous
Or heights and flights of rapturous peace above.
O Christ the Lamb, O Holy Ghost the Dove,
Reveal the Almighty Father unto us;
That we may tread Thy courts felicitous,
Loving Who loves us, for our God is Love.
Lo, if our God be Love thro' heaven's long day,
Love is He thro' our mortal pilgrimage,
Love was He thro' all aeons that are told.
We change, but Thou remainest; for Thine age

The pretty flowers were springing
In fields and meadows green
The little birds were singing
Where winter floods had been
Where I went to see my true love
Along the meadow way
Neath the willow rows and dew love
A courting Lucy Grey.

A bonny hat of finest straw
And ribbons black and blue
Her lips the bright and glossy haw
Her cheeks the roses dipt in dew
O she was fair as ony thing
And beautiful as gay
Blythe as a bonny morn o' spring
Was my sweet Lucy Grey.

O we loved and walked together

Bonny Lassie dinna leave me
Losing thee would ever grieve me
If it be a sin to love thee
Why's the sun so bright above thee
Why's the sky so heavenly blue
My Jinney when I'm courting you
And when you go so dull's the scene
The simmer seems to lose its green
All wears the mist and mountain hue
When Jinneys gone there's naught to woo.

Nature puts on its mourning gown
And grass & leaves look black & brown
There's nothing lovely nothing sweet
Sin I wi Jinney failed to meet

Come , gentle ghosts, from that far-distant shore
Of those that look no more upon the sun,
We love you ever as we loved before,
We could not fear you now the day is done;
One ghost alone I fear, the ghost of one
That lives—but loves and is beloved no more.

Thirsis a youth of the inspired train,
Faire Sacharissa lov'd, but lov'd in vain;
Like Phoebus sung, the no less amorous boy;
Like Daphne, she as lovely and as coy;
With numbers, he the flying Nymph pursues,
With numbers, such as Phoebus selfe might use;
Such is the chase, when love and fancy leads
O'er craggy mountains, and through flowery meads,
Invok'd to testifie the lovers care,
Or forme some image of his cruell Faire:
Urg'd with his fury like a wounded Deer
O'er these he fled, and now approaching neer,

If the nose of the pig in the market of Firenze
has lost its matte patina, and shines, brassy,
even in the half light; if the mosaic saint
on the tiles of the Basilica floor is half gone,
worn by the gravity of solid soles, the passing
of piety; if the arms of Venus have reentered
the rubble, taken by time, her perennial lover,
mutilating even the memory of beauty;
and if
the mother, hiding with her child from
the death squads of brutality,

Praise to the Holiest in the height,
And in the depth be praise,
In all His words most wonderful;
Most sure in all His ways!

O loving wisdom of our God!
When all was sin and shame,
A second Adam to the fight
And to the rescue came.

O wisest love! that flesh and blood,
Which did in Adam fail,
Should strive afresh against the foe,
Should strive and should prevail;

And that a higher gift than grace
Should flesh and blood refine,
God's presence and His very Self,
And Essence all-divine.