love poems

Not lost in a languor of blisses,
In valleys sweet-breathing of bloom,
Though roses are fain of her kisses
And stars braid her brows in the gloom;
Though lilies lean to her and love her,
And the love-song is sweet in her mouth,
And the world green—the skies blue above her—
Sing the South! Sing the South! Sing the South!

In the strength of high faith she hath risen,
Her flag on her mountains unfurled;
She hath rent the great hills that imprison
The glittering wealth of a world.
With the thrill of a new life elated

He 's no lad,—my love 's no lad,—
He 's past full manhood's prime;
He never stole a curl from me,
Or sent me bits of rhyme.
But when he folds me in his arm,
I feel so sweetly safe from harm!

He 's no lad,—my love 's no lad,—
No fickle, foolish boy;
And time has written on his face
The lines of pain and joy.
He often looks both tired and sad,
But I—what joy!—can make him glad.

He 's no lad,—my love 's no lad,—
His youth has passed him by;
And though I had no part in it,
I cannot breathe one sigh,

Let love speak forth in deeds, just as the Spring
Is heralded within the woods in May,
When tulips rear their heads and blithe birds sing
Upon the leafy boughs. No lips could say
What treasured store lies in a tender heart.
Let love be mute! Silence could ne'er conceal
The blossom of the soul, nor speech impart
The inward perfectness love's deeds reveal!

Life takes some dust,
A little rust,
A crust
Of bread,
And makes a must—
Blood hot and red;—
And joy, and pain, and love, and lust
Rise from the dead.

C O ming a tender Girl from School,
Marrying, I met a thund'ring Tool:
But fit for Love's Embraces grown,
I've got a Man that's next to none.
The first with Youth's too vig'rous Warmth inspir'd,
With Love's untasted Joys my Weakness tir'd.
My second grunting Spark, cold to Love's Charms,
He fills my Bed, 'tis true, but not my Arms.
When I'd no Appetite, Love cloy'd me;
Now I've a Mind to't, 'tis deny'd me.
Oh! Hymen, Hymen, for my Quiet,
Contract my Stomach, or enlarge my Diet.

Some look. to see the sweet Outlines
And beauteous Forms that Love does wear
Some look. to find out Patches. Paint.
Bracelets & Stays & Powderd Hair

Eyes of beauty, eyes of fire,
Rousing in me mad desire,
Rousing love that cannot tire;

Eyes of beauty, eyes of green,
Sea-sweet colour, seldom seen,
Rippling eyelashes between;

Eyes of beauty, eyes of brown,
Lovely, lowly, looking down,
Conquering wholly whom they crown;

Eyes of beauty, eyes of grey,
Soft as night-time, bright as day,
Born to govern, born to sway;

Eyes of green and brown and grey,
Fairer than noon's sunniest ray,
I love you more than words can say!

Two things thou shalt not long for, if thou love a mind serene;—
A woman to thy wife, though she were a crowned queen;
And the second, borrowed money,—though the smiling lender say,
That he will not demand the debt until the Judgment Day.

I love the mossy fountain
And the primrose by its brim
Where the silty sand keeps mounting
And the weeds with wet are dim
When hot suns drys ground starker
And morn sheds pearls o' dew
Where I sat with Mary Darker
A Maiden fair and true.

Her bonny white straw bonnet
Was sweet and fair to see
While flowered ribbons danced upon it
Like the princy feathered tree
Half boots her ancles hideing
The calves swelled from their tops
Spite o' her muttered chideing
The traveller nearly stops.

Upon the noontide's perfect blue
There sleeps a perfect cloud;
The lily's faultless form is hid
Within her leafy shroud.

The cloud lets fall her silver wing
And fades the perfect blue;
The lily's form betrays a fault—
Alas, love! art thou true?