love poetry

Shall we know our dear and loved ones
Who before ourselves have gone
To that fair Celestial City,
They whose work on earth is done?

Shall we meet them there in Heaven,
Friends to us so near and dear,
Shall we greet them and caress them,
As we did when they were here?

Shall, oh, shall we in their company
Walk the shining streets of gold,
And behold the city's beauties,
Whose half never's yet been told?

Yes, we'll know our dear and loved ones,
When to Heaven's streets we go,

Said Life to Art — " I love thee best
Not when I find in thee
My very face and form, expressed
With dull fidelity,

" But when in thee my craving eyes
Behold continually
The mystery of my memories
And all I long to be. "

Ah, love, if you could only know
The longing in this heart of mine,
You would unsay those fateful words,
And I no longer would repine.

Your fond desire is to share
All that you have — all that you own,
I ask of you far greater wealth,
The priceless gift of love, alone.

Steadfast and true I still remain,
In spite of utter loneliness,
O, let thy soul go forth with mine,
Upon this quest of happiness.

For love is life, and life is love,
Break not the bond 'twixt thee and me,

There's not a breeze that passes
But it seems to bring to me
Some tender, looked-for tidings,
Some message, love, from thee.

There's not a bird that singeth
From wall or bush or tree,
From roof of vine-wreathed balcony
But singeth, love, of thee.

There's not a flower that blossoms,
But your kindly, pensive face,
With loving eyes and heart love
On its painted leaves I trace.

There's not a stream that murmurs
Through wood or grassy lea,
Down mountain side or hollow

O FAIR with broom and woodbine,
And rowan and wild rose,
Is the Land of Hope Deferred
Where the shamrock grows;
And thither did I stray
In the long-gone day,
And I gave my heart away
To sweet Ireland.

Dead Songsters of her household
Have loved her and adored,
And their love was like a flame,
And their song was like a sword;
But an alien bard to-day,
All world-worn and gray,
Has sung his heart away
To sweet Ireland.

Have you not forgotten me?
How could I forget you,
My dear love, my true love, my own sweet heart?
Life brings many changes,
And women's hearts are fickle,
And time brings other lovers to lovers torn apart.

Soon you'll have forgotten me
How could I forget you,
When, day and night, I'm longing to be lying at your side?
Life brings many changes;
And I might forget you, living —
But how could I forget you, now that you have died!

His heart was tinder to the torch of love;
And tossed its challenge of tempestuous fire
To the cold stars—that still burn on above
The ash of his desire.

1. The Student

As I once in Salamanca,
(Whilst the nightingales o'erhead
Sweetly in the trees were singing),
Eagerly in Homer read:

How, arrayed in rich apparel,
Helen to the rampart went,
Shewing to the Trojan senate
Grace with bloom so sweetly blent,

That distinctly this and that one
Muttered in his hoary beard:
" Sooth, she comes of race immortal,

Introduction.

Since the very God of Numbers
Pallid grew with love's unrest,
Since the laurel round his temples
Token gives of love unblest,

Who can wonder, that but seldom
Shineth out a star benign
O'er the fate of mortal minstrels
Circled with the wreath divine?

That their looks are sad and earnest,
Mournful oft their music's strain;
That of bliss they sing but little,

I said a thoughtless word one day,
A loved one heard and went away;
I cried: " Forgive me, I was blind;
I would not wound or be unkind. "
I waited long, but all in vain,
To win my loved one back again.
Too late, alas! to weep and pray,
Death came; my loved one passed away.
Then, what a bitter fate was mine!
No language could my grief define;
Ah! deep regret could not unsay
The thoughtless word I spoke that day.