love poetry

A child was she but yesterday,
To-day a child no longer — no!
The bud its flower doth now display,
And now — half closed — scarce seems to blow.
What means this wonder, who can say?
Or am I mocked by outward show?

Such childish thoughts her words express,
So artless seem her glances bold,
Yet fuller meanings oft I guess
And depths without an end behold;
Such wonders Love's first dawn confess,
For Love hath wonders manifold!

Hail! as though sweet spring were nigh,
Golden sun and azure sky!
Hark! from yonder bowers above
Strains I hear of mirth and love.

Think'st thou, soul, again to hear
Spring's sweet carols, soft and clear?
Lo! how sere the forests seem;
Ah! thou didst but fondly dream.

Think ye that joys I never knew,
That ever thus my lay was sad?
Not so—my days once brightly flew,
With lays of love my life was glad.
The presence sweet of her I loved
Made flow'rs to bloom throughout the year;
What morning's dreams had promised, proved
Reality when eve drew near.

To joys of mine might witness bear
The sky's bright blue, the streamlet's sheen,
The grove with sprouting branches fair,
The garden gay and meadow green.
For these have oft beheld me glad,

Will it neuer better be?
Do the heavnelie fates agree
There shall be no helpe for me?
Nor these eyes shall euer see
Fruite of my desired tree?

No, thoughe fortune haue forsworne me
And faire beawtie so do scorne me,
That suche hatefull thoughtes are borne me
As with cruell cares haue torne me;
Yett hath loue not quite forlorne me.

Love? how (lord) am I deceyued?
Kindnes all amisse conceiued
Where no comfort is receiued
But to plainlie is perceiued
Will of witt and reason reaved.

All my witte hath will enwrapped
All my sence desire entrapped,
All my faith to fancy fixed,
All my joye to loue annexed
All my loue I offer thee.
Once for all yett looke one me.

Let me see that heavnely feature
Oh heavnes, what a heavnelle creature!
All the powres of heavne preserue thee.
All the powres on earthe do serue thee.
Princesse' will [and] goddesse' place
Blessed be that Angells face.

Looke oh Angell, looke vpon me
See howe I am woe begone me!
Of hoth witt and sence depriued

( OUT OF SIDI HAMMO )

Some day a white feast I will hold,
When I am white through being old,
And over my soul have built a height
Of speculation marble white,
Towering holiness, and bright prayer;
Whereunder I at last shall dare
To entertain all secretly
My desire; yea, there shall be
Goblets white as that body of thine,
And white as thy spirit shall be the wine.

My heart forgot its God for love of you,
And you forgot me, other loves to learn;
Now through a wilderness of thorn and rue
Back to my God I turn.

And just because my God forgets the past,
And in forgetting does not ask to know
Why I once left His arms for yours, at last
Back to my God I go.

Apollo in Love

or the Poet Lost in the Platonist

The stern palestra moulded well my youth,
That I might wring from the taut-corded lyre
Music and truth
To lighten souls, and move to holy ruth.

Much did I wander through the Delphic glen
Where the rapt sibyl strained to catch my song
Through field and fen
Eurotas watered, nurse of perfect men.

And through all lovely lands, where beauty fed
The eyes with joy, and left the heart secure,
Which only bled
When my sweet boy, my Hyacinth, was dead.

Neuer thinke vpon anoye,
Where the harte hath suche a Joye

But head leave akinge,
Harte is in better takinge;
Eies leave your weepinge,
Loue hath sweete thoughtes in kepinge;
Harte howlde thine owne yitt
Loue is not ouerthrowne yitt
And the heavnes them selues haue sworne
Loue shall neuer be forlorne.

See howe she chaunceth,
That all true loue advaunceth;
Sweete be that smile yitt,
That bydes me liue a-while yitt;
Euer be lyvinge
Those eyes suche comfort givinge;

Goe muse vnto the bower, whereas the mistress dwelles,
And tell her of her servaunte's loue but tell her nothing ells;
And speake but in her eare, that none maie heare but she,
That if she not the sooner helpe there is no helpe for me.
Not that I feare to speake, but it is straunge to heare
That she will neuer looke on him, that howldes her loue so deere.
Perhaps she knows it not, or if she doe, she will not,