love poems

Why am I wakeful thinking of you in the night,
You whom I no longer love,
You who love me no more?
Yet if you would turn the handle of my door
And stand before me white,
Like a young dove,
For just a little while
I think I would look up and smile.

What are these thoughts of you that strangle me
In this silent midnight hour?
Memories, dreams that cloud my eyes
And with strange torture rise,
Mocking my misery.
Somehow I wonder if the flower
Of old-time joy would burst to flame
If, dear, you came.

Yes, thought the sullen east-wind storm,
And sunless skies the Spring deform,
The lovely Nina's graceful hand
Can, like a fairy's lily wand,
Bid every vernal sweet appear,
And bloom with early fragrance here!
Yes here, even here, they breathe perfume,
Though walls of melancholy gloom,
With northern aspect frowning rude,
Each brighter beam of Heaven exclude
Behold! at Nina's soft command,
The flowers their velvet leaves expand,
And sweet, and blue like her own eye,
(That loves in languid peace to lie,

Haste hither, my love, the river
Is tinged with the pale moonlight,
The leaves of the dark trees quiver,
And throb in the parting night.
Why linger, my love, why linger?
Swift fly the hours away,
And soon will Aurora's finger
Point to the dawning day.

The Spirit of Morn doth hover
Above the horizon dark,
'T is time that both Maid and Lover
Were safe in their waiting bark;
Then hasten to meet me, dearest,
Why does my true-love stay?
Oh! haste, and your loved-one nearest,

If love, for love of long time had,
May join with joy, and care hence cast,
Then may remembrance make me glad,
Days, weeks, and years, in all time past
My Love hath loved me so lovingly,
And I will love her as truly.

And as we twain have loved and do,
So be we fixed to love even still;
The law of love hath made us two
To work two willës in one will:
My Love will love me so lovingly,
And I will love her as truly.

Ye lovers all in present place
That long for love continual,

I loved thee once, I love thee still,
My heart is yet thine own;
Thou art its sole and rightful queen,
It is thy royal throne.

What though dark fate between us stands,
And clouds between us roll;
Not clouds, not even fate can stay
The flight of soul to soul.

No power upon the earth below,
Nor none in heaven above;
Time nor eternity can break
The golden chain of love.

And is the water come? sure 't cannot be;
It runs too much against philosophy:
For heavy bodies to the centre bend;
Light bodies only naturally ascend.
How comes this then to pass? The good knight's skill
Could nothing do without the water's will:
Then 'twas the water's love that made it flow;
For love will creep where well it cannot go.

Love planted a rose,
And the world turned sweet.
Where the wheat-field blows
Love planted a rose.
Up the mill-wheel's prose
Ran a music-beat.
Love planted a rose,
And the world turned sweet.

Father, I glory in the name of Son,
Born of Thy Life, the child of Perfect Love.
Grant that by all the world Thy will be done,
As by Thine angels in the heavens above!
Fed by Thy love from heaven from day to day
'T is in Thy name we go—in that we rest—
By Thee forgiven, Father, when we stray,
Strong in Thy strength and by Thy blessing blest.

Thine is the Kingdom and the glory Thine,
And Thine the Power, and what is Thine is mine.

The shuttles of the spirit ply
Swiftly between us two
Among the shining filaments that tie
My heart to you.

Threading the crimson woof they race,
Defying mould and moth,
To weave a gift for our most holy place,—
Love's altar cloth.

My loves are bronzes, crystals, porcelains,
Windows aglow like jewelled treasuries,
Hangings of florid, golden argosies,
And salvers brilliant with Venetian stains.
My loves are damosels of ancient reigns,
The old world's troubadour sweet harmonies,
The steed that bounds to Arabic caprice,
The German ballad with its tear refrains,

The ivory-carved piano-keys aflood,
The sounding horn within the forest glade,
The soft aroma from the censer fumed,
The couch of ivory, gold, and sandal-wood,