love poems

“What does the little boy love?”
He loves this room of fragrant plants!
He wants to mount a flying dragon
and fly to heaven, to see the red sun.

Ballad , since Love himself hath fashioned thee
Within my mind where he doth make abode,
Hie thee to her who through mine eyes bestow'd
Her blessing on my heart, which stays with me.

Since thou wast born a handmaiden of Love,
With every grace thou shouldst be perfected,
And everywhere seem gentle, wise, and sweet.
And for that thine aspect gives sign thereof,
I do not tell thee, ‘Thus much must be said:’—
Hoping, if thou inheritest my wit,
And com'st on her when speech may ill befit,

There lies in the center of each man's heart,
A longing and love for the good and pure;
And if but an atom, or larger part,
I tell you this shall endure—endure
After the body has gone to decay—
Yea, after the world has passed away.

The longer I live and the more I see
Of the struggle of souls toward the heights above,
The stronger this truth comes home to me:
That the Universe rests on the shoulders of love;
A love so limitless, deep, and broad,
That men have renamed it and called it—God.

Fly away, fly away, over the sea,
Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done.
Come again, come again, come back to me,
Bringing the summer and bringing the sun.

The bright blue wave were sad and drear
Without its sea-bird white:
The rose would die, did it not hear
The soft breeze sing at night:
Lest heaven should be the storm-wind's prey,
Love made the grand sun shine:
Lest clouds should cover all my day,
He made thy splendour mine!

Love sent the sweetest thing on earth
To charm me and to chain;
To thrill my soul to tenderest mirth,
Or—pierce my heart with pain!
Love bade the blue sea kiss the land,
The gold shore kiss the sea,
Then made the marvel of thine hand,

And now the sad thought fills my heart with tears
And stills my very singing for awhile.—
When love is born, the farthest white clouds smile
And fragrance wafted from remotest years
Greets us, and all June's chanting fills our ears.
We linger, as one lingers on a stile
'Tween meadow and meadow. Flowers so fair beguile
Our fancy that it hath no room for fears.

When love is born, the farthest star-lips sing
And music fills the temples of the sky.
Who dreams of Winter when the green-clad Spring

The may bush smells sae very sweet
The crimson threeds sae fine
The chaffinch builds her nest sae neat
& shepherd's sit to dine
Aye dear o'me I love to see
The sweetly scented white thorn tree.

The leaves are green & very green
Though bunches o' the may
Whiten till scarcely one is seen
For a whole summers day
Aye dear o' me I love to see
Hedges all white & love the awthorn tree.

It spreads above the little pond
& hides the thrushes nest
The hedge is whiter still beyond

I like the lad that's like mysel
Content to be alane
Though he's not a penny for to tell
And sits on the hearth stane
If he's a man—a comely man
My sweet heart he shall be
Contentment is the choicest plan
Love makes us baith agree

If he's the lad thats lotted out
Then Im the Lass mysell
We'll neither live in strife or doubt
But manage matters well
And if he is the lad for me
And I become his ain
Black slanderous tongues may disagree
The quarrels all in vain

I'll luiv and keep him all my sen

Oh mistress mine! where are you roaming?
Oh! stay and hear; your true love's coming,
That can sing both high and low.
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
Every wise man's son doth know.

What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty;
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure. II, iii

If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken and so die. I, i
That strain again! It had a dying fall;
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odor. Enough, no more.
'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou,
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, naught enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soe'er,