love poems

O the burden, the burden of love ungiven,
The weight of laughter unshed,
O heavy caresses, unblown tendernesses,
O love-words unsung and unsaid.

O the burden, the burden of love unspoken,
The cramp of silence close-furled,
To lips that would utter, to hands that would scatter
Love's seed on the paths of the world.

O the heavy burden of love ungiven:
My breast doth this burden bear;
Deep in my bosom the unblown blossom—
My world-love that withers there.

Teach it me, if you can,—forgetfulness!
I surely shall forget, if you can bid me;
I who have worshipp'd thee, my god on earth,
I who have bow'd me at thy lightest word.
Your last command, “Forget me,” will it not
Sink deeply down within my inmost soul?
Forget thee!—ay, forgetfulness will be
A mercy to me. By the many nights,
When I have wept for that I dared not sleep,—
A dream had made me live my woes again,
Acting my wretchedness, without the hope
My foolish heart still clings to, though that hope

When love in the faint heart trembles,
And the eyes with tears are wet,
Oh, tell me what resembles
Thee, young Regret?
Violets with dewdrops drooping;
Lilies o'erfull of gold,
Roses in June rains stooping,
That weep for the cold,
Are like thee, young Regret.

Bloom, violets, lilies, and roses!
But what, young Desire,
Like thee, when love discloses
Thy heart of fire?
The wild swan unreturning,
The eagle alone with the sun,
The long-winged storm-gulls burning
Seaward when day is done,

Wearies my love of my letters?
Does she my silence command?
Sunders she Love's rosy fetters
As though they were woven of sand?
Tires she too of each token
Indited with many a sigh?
Are all her promises broken?
And must I love on till I die?

Thinks my dear love that I blame her
With what was a burden to part?
Ah, no!—with affection I'll name her
While lingers a pulse in my heart.
Although she has clouded with sadness:
And blighted the bloom of my years,
I love her still, even to madness,

Sweet hand! the sweet yet cruel bow thou art,
From whence at one, five ivory arrows fly,
So with five wounds at once I wounded lie
Bearing in breast the print of every dart.
Saint Francis had the like, yet felt no smart:
Where I in living torments never die,
His wounds were in his hands and feet where I
All these same helpless wounds feel in my heart.
Now as Saint Francis (if a saint) am I.
The bow which shot these shafts a relic is;
I mean the hand, which is the reason why
So many for devotion thee would kiss,

Say Stranger did you see my love
I prythee tell to me
I left her down in the beechen grove
While I sought the strawberry
& when wild strawberrys I did gain
The woody hills upon
I sought her in the Grove in vain
For the gentle maid was gone

Then prythee stranger kindly say
Did ye see the maid I seek
& tell me what she were I pray
Before that I can speak
O what shes like were hard to say
Kind stranger well I wot
Like the sun where she exists is day
& night where she is not

The faire[y]s heard her song & so much they loved the tune
That they brought a golden cage & took her to the moon
Where imprisoned she remains in the pallace of their queen
& at night I look up there & I think shes to be seen
I sing aloud then listen till I think she makes reply
& I beg the stars to steal adown & take me to the sky
Where I would fainly fly but I cannot get so far
& the clouds they would not bear me to perch on in the air
So here I must remain in the woods the summer long

Swear to me, said my love, that you are mine:
Bring yourself to me outside my door and wait:
My lovers have come in numbers but they go,
I call for love that asks for nothing and gives all.
I am tired of the debits and credits of love,
I am tired of the vows of lovers,
I leave you as free as I ask to be myself.
Swear to me, said my love, that love is not a bond:
Love's body is for love's body, that is all,
Love's soul is for love's soul, that is all.
I give all for all, I bargain for nothing less,

I have found that love comes forth from customs issuing a challenge,
And love's challenge turns love loose upon you in vehement plenty,
And you go to your root and find love there before you,
And you go to your finished boughs and you find love there already arrived,
And you follow love out of all law and habit,
And you follow love out of all luxury and laxity,
And you go where love is free and pure, and you track love to the scene of its newday consummations
Once you thought love was only safe with the police at its door:

When Spring in sunny woodland lay,
And gilded buds were sparely set
On oak tree and the thorny may,
I gave my love a violet.
“O Love,” she said, and kissed my mouth
With one light, tender maiden kiss,
“There are no rich blooms in the south
So fair to me as this!”

When Summer reared her haughty crest,
We paused beneath the ruddy stars;
I placed a rose upon her breast,
Plucked from the modest casement bars.
“O Love,” she said, and kissed my mouth—
Heart, heart, rememb'rest thou the bliss?—