love poems

When on thy brow I gaze and in thine eyes--
Eyes heavy-laden with the soul's desire,
Not passion-lit, but lit with Heav'n's own fire--
I have a vision of Love's Paradise.
Gazing, my tranced spirit straightway flies
Beyond the zone to which the stars aspire;
I hear the blent notes of the white-wing'd quire
Around Immortal Love triumphant rise.

And there I kneel before th' eternal throne
Of Love, whose light conceals him,--there I see,
Veiled in his sacred light, a face well known
To me on earth, now, yearning, bend o'er me.

I know not what Love is,--a memory
Of Heav'n once known,--a yearning for some goal
That shines afar,--a dream that doth control
The spirit, shadowing forth what is to be.
But this I know, my heart hath found in thee
The crown of life, the glory of the soul,
The healing of all strife, the making whole
Of my imperfect being,--yea, of me!

For to mine eyes thine eyes, through Love, reveal
The smile of God; to me God's healing breath
Comes through thy hallowed lips whose pray'r is Love.
Thy touch gives life! And oh, let me but feel

Written jointly with a particular Friend, after a conversation
similar to the subject, with the Damon of the Story.

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Believing love was all a bubble,
And wooing but a needless trouble,
Damon grew fond of posied rings,
And many such romantic things;
But whether it were Fortune's spite,
That study wound his brain too tight,
Or that his fancy play'd him tricks,
He could not on the lady fix.
He look'd around,
And often found,
A damsel passing fair;

Death? is it death you give? So be it! O Death,
thou hast been long my friend, and now thy pale
cool cheek shall have my kiss, while the faint breath
expires on thy still lips, O lovely Death!

Come then, loose hands, fair Life, without a wail!
We've had good hours together, and you were sweet
what time love whispered with the nightingale,
tho' ever your music by the lark's would fail.

Come then, loose hands! Our lover time is done.
Now is the marriage with the eternal sun.
The hours are few that rest, are few and fleet.

When these dead leaves were green, love,
November's skies were blue,
And summer came with lips aflame,
The gentle spring to woo;
And to us, wandering hand in hand,
Life was a fairy scene,
That golden morning in the woods
When these dead leaves were green!

How dream-like now that dewy morn,
Sweet with the wattle's flowers,
When love, love, love was all our theme,
And youth and hope were ours!
Two happier hearts in all the land
There were not then, I ween,
Than those young lovers' -- yours and mine --

Good-bye! -- 'tis like a churchyard bell -- good-bye!
Poor weeping eyes! Poor head, bowed down with woe!
Kiss me again, dear love, before you go.
Ah, me, how fast the precious moments fly!
Good-bye! Good-bye!

We are like mourners when they stand and cry
At open grave in wintry wind and rain.
Yes, it is death. But you shall rise again --
Your sun return to this benighted sky.
Good-bye! Good-bye!

The great physician, Time, shall pacify
This parting anguish with another friend.

A cottage small be mine, with porch
Enwreathed with ivy green,
And brightsome flowers with dew-filled bells,
'Mid brown old wattles seen.

And one to wait at shut of eve,
With eyes as fountain clear,
And braided hair, and simple dress,
My homeward step to hear.

On summer eves to sing old songs,
And talk o'er early vows,
While stars look down like angels' eyes
Amid the leafy boughs.

When Spring flowers peep from flossy cells,
And bright-winged parrots call,
In forest paths be ours to rove

The love in her eyes lay sleeping,
As stars that unconscious shine,
Till, under the pink lids peeping,
I wakened it up with mine;
And we pledged our troth to a brimming oath
In a bumper of blood-red wine.
Alas! too well I know
That it happened long ago;
Those memories yet remain,
And sting, like throbs of pain,
And I'm alone below,
But still the red wine warms, and the rosy goblets glow;
If love be the heart's enslaver,
'Tis wine that subdues the head.

She loves me! From her own bliss-breathing lips
The live confession came, like rich perfume
From crimson petals bursting into bloom!
And still my heart at the remembrance skips
Like a young lion, and my tongue, too, trips
As drunk with joy! while every object seen
In life's diurnal round wears in its mien
A clear assurance that no doubts eclipse.
And if the common things of nature now
Are like old faces flushed with new delight,
Much more the consciousness of that rich vow
Deepens the beauteous, and refines the bright,

Oh! never will I leave my love,
My captive soul would sigh to stray,
Tho' seraph-songs its truth to prove,
Call it from earth to heaven to away.

For heaven has deign'd on earth to send
As rich a gift as it can give;
Alas! that mortal bliss must end,
For mortal man must cease to live.

Yet transient would my sorrows be
Should Delia first her breath resign;
Sweet Maid! my soul would follow thee,
For never can it part from thine.