love poems

Chalk-white, light dazzled on the stone,
And there a weed, a finger high,
Bowed its silvery head with every
Breath of wind that faltered by.

Twice lovely thing! For when there drifted
A cloud across the radiant sun,
Not only that had it forsaken,
Its tiny shadow too was gone.

My beloved spake, and said unto me,
Rise up, my love, my fair one and come away.
For, lo, the winter is past,
the rain is over and gone;
the flowers appear on the earth;
the time of the singing of birds is come,
and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;
the fig tree putteth forth her green figs,
and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell.
Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

Bury thy sorrows, and they shall rise
As souls to the immortal skies,
And there look down like mothers' eyes.

But let thy joys be fresh as flowers,
That suck the honey of the showers,
And bloom alike on huts and towers.

So shall thy days be sweet and bright;
Solemn and sweet thy starry night,
Conscious of love each change of light.

The stars will watch the flowers asleep,
The flowers will feel the soft stars weep,
And both will mix sensations deep.

With these below, with those above,

I met her, as we had privily planned,
Where passing feet beat busily:
She whispered: ‘Father is at hand!
He wished to walk with me.’

His presence as he joined us there
Banished our words of warmth away;
We felt, with cloudings of despair,
What Love must lose that day.

Her crimson lips remained unkissed,
Our fingers kept no tender hold,
His lack of feeling made the tryst
Embarrassed, stiff, and cold.

A cynic ghost then rose and said,
‘But is his love for her so small

Care flieth,
Hope and fear together,
Love dieth
In the Autumn weather.

For a friend
Even care is pleasant;
When fear doth end
Hope is no more present:
Autumn silences the turtle dove;—
In blank Autumn who could speak of love?

And shall Love cease? Ask thine own heart, O Woman,
Thy heart that beats restlessly on for ever!
All earthly things shall pass away and human,
But Love's divine: annihilated never,
It binds and nought shall sever.

Oh! it is Love makes the world habitable,
Love is a foretaste of our promised Heaven;
Though sometimes robed in white, sometimes in sable,
It still is Love, and still some joy is given,
Although the heart be riven.

And who would give Love's joy to 'scape its paining?

Lord, grant us eyes to see and ears to hear,
And souls to love and minds to understand,
And steadfast faces toward the Holy Land,
And confidence of hope, and filial fear,
And citizenship where Thy saints appear
Before Thee heart in heart and hand in hand,
And Alleluias where their chanting band
As waters and as thunders fill the sphere.
Lord, grant us what Thou wilt, and what Thou wilt
Deny, and fold us in Thy peaceful fold:
Not as the world gives, give to us Thine own:
Inbuild us where Jerusalem is built

O Lord, I am ashamed to seek Thy Face
As tho' I loved Thee as Thy saints love Thee:
Yet turn from those Thy lovers, look on me,
Disgrace me not with uttermost disgrace;
But pour on me ungracious, pour Thy grace
To purge my heart and bid my will go free,
Till I too taste Thy hidden Sweetness, see
Thy hidden Beauty in the holy place.
O Thou Who callest sinners to repent,
Call me Thy sinner unto penitence,
For many sins grant me the greater love:
Set me above the waterfloods, above

To love is heaven, and not to love is hell.—
To give sweet love away
Eternally and boundlessly is well.
For this alone I pray!

I ask the power of loving without bound:
No limit there should be.
If thine arms, love, may never close me round,
Let my arms cover thee!

Let my strong love and limitless embrace
Of fiery fervent heart
Be ever round about thee,—in each place;
Blessing, where'er thou art.

Let me on earth and through all worlds to be
Be just the one who so

There were four-and-twenty ladies dined i the Queen's ha,
And Jean o Bethelnie was the flower o them a'.

Four-and-twenty gentlemen rode thro Banchory fair,
But bonny Glenlogie was the flower that was there.

Young Jean at a window she chanced to sit nigh,
And upon Glenlogie she fixed an eye.

She called on his best man, unto him did say,
O what is that knight's name? or where does he stay?

‘He 's of the noble Gordons, of great birth and fame;
He stays at Glenlogie, Sir George is his name.’