love poetry

Enough I love you, after years and years,
To write Love in your grave-dust with my tears.
And after you whom shall I love? At most
Only, ah me, a dead man—or a ghost!

Iesus, my life! how shall I truly love thee?
O that thy Spirit would so strongly move me,
That thou wert pleas'd to shed thy grace so farr
As to make man all pure love, flesh a star!
A star that would ne'r set, but ever rise,
So rise and run, as to out-run these skies,
These narrow skies (narrow to me) that barre,
So barre me in, that I am still at warre,
At constant warre with them. O come and rend,
Or bow the heavens! Lord bow them and descend,
And at thy presence make these mountains flow,

Love is the noblest Principle
That e'er possest the Mind;
But, Oh, what loads of Counterfeits!
Tho' some we gen'ine find.

Thus Lust oft times does go for Love,
How hath it stole the Name!
We know it is a fiend of Hell,
But Love from Heaven came.

Thus sorded Av'rice often tries
To pass with us for Love,
'Tis like the cunning Fox, I think,
That would assume the Dove.

How is it that a Christian e'er
Can to this Idol bow
In Marriage, and forget the Heart?
Do such perform their Vow?

A Pastoral

Two nymphs to whom the pow'rs of verse belong,
Alike ambitious to excel in song,
With equal sweetness sang alternate strains,
And courteous echo told the list'ning plains;
That of her lover sung, this of her friend;
Ye rural nymphs and village swains attend.

C ELIA .

O Love, soft sov'reign, ruler of the heart!
Deep are thy wounds, and pleasing is the smart;

Being in Love.

Aske Lover, ere thou dyest; let one poor breath
Steale from thy lips, to tell her of thy Death;
Doating Idolater! can silence bring
Thy Saint propitious? or will Cupid fling
One arrow for thy palenes? leave to trye
This silent Courtship of a sickly eye;
Witty to tyranny: She too well knowes
This but the incense of thy private vowes,
That breaks forth at thine eyes, and doth betray
The sacrifice thy wounded heart would pay;
Aske her, foole, aske her, if words cannot move,

In the morning of Life, when our feelings are new,
And our pathway is pleasant with sunshine and dew;
When many-toned music pervadeth the air,
And the commonest thing that we look on is fair, —
How sweet the first passion, that prompts us to stray
With one who adds beauty to beautiful May!
While a voice seems to steal through the shade of the bowers,
Singing — " Love is the odour of heavenly flowers! "

When wedded, and home groweth bright with the bride,
An angel to walk through the world by our side, —

Well , if that's our fate,
I would rather go down with those I love
Than float among those I hate.

Scott's Run o'erflowed my father's land
As in our woodland, walking there,
I went with Eunice hand in hand —
Gentle was she, unwooed and fair!
To tell her better than in speech
I, while she wove for me a wreath,
Cut her initials on a beech
And mine, who loved her, underneath.

" What's this? " spoke Eunice, coy to win,
" That crawls so blind across my feet? "
It was a hard-shell Terrapin,
Its eyes aye down, its pace not fleet;
" These slow things beat the Hare, they tell,

O THAM AND T RURO Tunes .

Lord, when shall I, without a vail,
Behold the Man who bore my sin;
Constrain'd no longer to bewail
That still that evil works within?

When shall my passions, all subdued,
And moulded into perfect love,
Receive impressions only good,
And to thy glory always move?

When shall I mount to that bright throne
By love divine prepar'd for me;

Why should you such Devotion still
To that false Idol Honour shew!
In this you prove Love's Infidel
And worship your most deadly Foe.

Like faithless Indians thus you bow
To a grim Pow'r that's serv'd with Fear.
And, as it does your Torment grow,
Become the more its Worshipper.

Mistaken Saint! give me the Pow'r
The Errors of thy Zeal to mend;
Thy proud Tormentor serve no more,