love poetry

Whate'er you say, whate'er you do,
My heart shall still be fixed and true.
The vicious bosom love deforms
And rages there in gusts and storms,
But love with us a constant gale,
Just swells the sea and fills the sail:
Neither of winds or waves the sport,
We rule the helm and gain the port.

While before St. Agnes' shrine
Knelt a true knight's lady-love,
From the wars of Palestine
Came a gentle carrier-dove.
Round his neck a silken string
Fastened words the warrior writ:
At her call he stooped his wing,
And upon her finger lit.

She, like one enchanted, pored
O'er the contents of the scroll —
For that lady loved her lord
With a pure, devoted soul.
To her heart her dove she drew,
While she traced the burning line;
Then away his minion flew
Back to sainted Palestine.

The truest is the simplest. Why entail
Whole days of years to some complex pursuit,
To probe life's flower and analyze its fruit?
O weary student, perplexed, spectre-pale,
Why beat against the granite of thy gaol,
Self-built; or kill the flower to search the root?
Doth lore make mankind any less the brute?
Or knowledge alone for godlike flight avail?

'Tis love draws all from earth to heaven's heights.
Not all thy weary lore of sleepless nights
Hath power to touch like one low daisied sod; —

I STOOD last night on Dante's bridge of woe,
And saw that awful host of those who pass,
Like phantom shadows on a wizard's glass,
In all dread miseries of the stygian throe.
I saw the fated lovers come and go
In agony of love's despair, alas,
Ixion's wheel; and Sisyphus' taunting glass
Escape his lips amid the hellish glow.

But nowhere saw I ill so great as here
Goes grinding sadly, patient day by day,
Jealousy, hate, yon miser aged and grey
Gripping his gold with mocking death anear;

Love thee, dearest? — Hear me. — Never
Will my fond vows be forgot!
May I perish, and for ever,
When, dear maid, I love thee not!
Turn not from me, dearest! — Listen!
Banish all thy doubts and fears!
Let thine eyes with transport glisten!
What hast thou to do with tears?

Dry them, dearest! — Ah, believe me,
Love's bright flame is burning still!
Though the hollow world deceive thee,
Here's a heart that never will!
Dost thou smile? — A cloud of sorrow
Breaks before Joy's rising sun!

Love and be loved! yet know love's holiest deeps
Few sound while living! when the loved one sleeps
That last, strange sleep beneath the mournful sod,
Then Memory wakes, like some remorseful god,
And all the golden past, we scarce did prize,
Subtly revives, with light of tender eyes,
That smiled their soft forgiveness on our wrongs, —
And old thoughts rise, with echoes of sweet songs, —
Soul-nightingales, in pensive twilight born,
To press their throbbing breasts against the thorn
Of sharp regret! till love so blends with pain,

We met — he was a stranger,
His foot was free to roam;
I was a simple maiden,
Who had never left my home.

He was a noble scion
Of the green Highland pine,
To a strange soil transplanted,
Far from his native clime.

And well his bearing pleased me,
For I had never seen
Keener eye, or smile more sunlit,
Or more dignity of mien.

His brow was fair and lofty,
Bright was his clustering hair;
I marvelled that to other eyes
He seemed not half so fair.

I KNEW , sweetheart, you loved me,
I guessed it long ago;
Yet your confession moved me
As this had not been so.

I strode upon the mountains,
I shouted to the skies —
The sunset on the ocean
Brought tears into my eyes.

My heart, aglow with passion,
A blazing sun I bear,
And in love's boundless waters
'T is sinking, great and fair.

A little fame is mine, a little joy,
A hope for things to come from God on high,
A gratitude for every pretty toy,
A patience when the plaything is put by, —
And yet I have not anything, it seems,
Except thy love and all thy lover's dreams.

Thy love alone makes straight the crooked way,
Thy love alone lends courage for the strife,
Thy love it is that floods my night with day
And lifts my eyes to Splendor and to Life, —
Until love came I wondered and was sad,
But now I only know that I am glad!

I never saw the rain so white,
So cold and white,
As on that night
When love seemed dead
And low ghost winds were moving overhead.

I never felt the rain so warm,
So soft and warm,
As through the storm
You came to me
And filled the lonely wastes with ecstasy.