love poems

Above,
The stars are bursting into bloom,
My love;
Below, unfolds the evening gloom.
Come, let us roam the long lane thro',
My love, just as we used to do.

The birds
Of twilight twitter, sweet and low,
And fly to rest, and homeward go
The herds.
Come, let the long lane lead us as it will,
My love, a-winding thro' the evening still.

Behold
How now the full-blown stars are spread,
Like large white lilies, overhead!
But fold
They must, and fade at gray daylight,

N ELLIE , your hair of night, your eyes
Haunt me so far away,
Where are our words of love, our sighs,
Our kisses where are they?

The life that once was ours, the light
Of love, say not that they
Have gone for ever in the night,
Have wholly passed away!

Love , which in courts is but a toy for spleen,
Is a grave matter on the village green
The loving shepherd, laid upon the shelf,
Acts like a proper swain, and hangs himself:
The courtier sees his faithless fair another's,
And mutters with a shrug, ‘Well, I've two others’.

If thy sad heart, pining for human love,
In its earth solitude grew dark with fear,
Lest the high Sun of Heaven itself should prove
Powerless to save from that phantasmal sphere
Wherein thy spirit wandered,—if the flowers
That pressed around thy feet, seemed but to bloom
In lone Gethsemanes, through starless hours,
When all who loved had left thee to thy doom,—
Oh, yet believe that, in that hollow vale
Where thy soul lingers, waiting to attain
So much of Heaven's sweet grace as shall avail
To lift its burden of remorseful pain,

Love wine and beauty and the spring,
While wine is red and spring is here,
And through the almond blossoms ring
The dove-like voices of thy Dear.

Love wine and spring and beauty while
The wine hath flavour and spring masks
Her treachery in so soft a smile
That none may think of toil and tasks.

But when spring goes on hurrying feet,
Look not thy sorrow in the eyes,
And bless thy freedom from thy sweet:
This is the wisdom of the wise.

Love faded in my heart,
I thought it was dead;
Now new flowers start,
Fresh leaves outspread.
Why do these flowers upstart
And again the leaves spread?
Oh, when will it be dead
This root that tears my heart!

I do not ask for love, ah! no,
Nor friendship's happiness,
These were relinquished long ago;
I search for something less.

I seek a little tranquil bark
In which to drift at ease
Awhile, and then quite silently
To sink in quiet seas.

What were I, Love, if I were stripped of thee,
If thine eyes shut me out whereby I live,
Thou, who unto my calmer soul dost give
Knowledge, and Truth, and holy Mystery,
Wherein Truth mainly lies for those who see
Beyond the earthly and the fugitive,
Who in the grandeur of the soul believe,
And only in the Infinite are free?
Without thee I were naked, bleak, and bare
As yon dead cedar on the sea-cliff's brow;
And Nature's teachings, which come to me now,
Common and beautiful as light and air,

But one—but I! whose amorous flow
On my long earth-travel I shall not miss
Till Death through the temple of Love shall go.

As rose in my heart the deep love-strife
For that sweet girl-blossom in clematis-snow,
To woo her and win her, a darling wife.