love poems

We grant they're thine, those beauties all,
So lovely in our eye:
Keep them, thou eunuch, C——ss,
For others to enjoy!

Cease, ye prudes, your envious railing,
Lovely Burns has charms—confess;
True it is, she had one failing,
Had ae woman ever less?

Another year of joy & grief,
Another year of hope & fear:
O Mother, is life long or brief?
We hasten while we linger here.

But since we linger, love me still
And bless me still, O Mother mine,
While hand in hand we scale life's hill,
You Guide, & I your Valentine.

A moon impoverished amid stars curtailed,
A sun of its exuberant lustre shorn,
A transient morning that is scarcely morn,
A lingering night in double dimness veiled.—
Our hands are slackened and our strength has failed:
We born to darkness, wherefore were we born?
No ripening more for olive, grape, or corn:
Faith faints, hope faints, even love himself has paled.
Nay! love lifts up a face like any rose
Flushing and sweet above a thorny stem,
Softly protesting that the way he knows;
And as for faith and hope, will carry them

I said: This is a beautiful fresh rose.
I said: I will delight me with its scent;
Will watch its lovely curve of languishment,
Will watch its leaves unclose, its heart unclose.
I said: Old earth has put away her snows,
All living things make merry to their bent,
A flower is come for every flower that went
In autumn, the sun glows, the south wind blows.
So walking in a garden of delight
I came upon one sheltered shadowed nook
Where broad leaf shadows veiled the day with night,
And there lay snow unmelted by the sun:—

I said to heaven that glowed above
O hide yon sun-filled zone,
Hide all the stars you boast;
For, in the world of love
And estimation true,
The heaped-up harvest of the moon
Is worth one barley-corn at most,
The Pleiads' sheaf but two.

If my darling should depart,
And search the skies for prouder friends,
God forbid my angry heart
In other love should seek amends.

When the blue horizon's hoop
Me a little pinches here,
Instant to my grave I stoop,
And go find thee in the sphere.

I love thy music, mellow bell,
I love thine iron chime,
To life or death, to heaven or hell,
Which calls the Sons of Time.

Thy voice upon the deep
The homebound sea-boy hails,
It charms his cares to sleep,
It cheers him as he sails.

To house of God & heavenly joys
Thy summons called our sires,
And good men thought thy sacred voice
Disarmed the thunder's fires.

And soon thy music, sad death-bell!
Shall lift its notes once more,
And mix my requiem with the wind
That sweeps my native shore.

Mild health I seek thee wither art thou found
Mid daiseys sleeping in the morning dew
Along the meadow paths where all around
May smells so lovely thither would I go
Where art thou envious blessing now the cold
Is gone away & hedge & wood is seen
All lovely & the gay marsh marigold
Edges the meadow lakes so freshly green
My straining eye so anxious to behold
Thee up & journeying on the swallows wing
To see thee up & shining every where
Among the sweet companions of the spring

I'le doe my best to win, when'ere I wooe:
That man loves not, who is not zealous too.

I prest my Julia's lips, and in the kisse
Her Soule and Love were palpable in this.