love poetry

Love , the immortal thing, by Time constrained
— Is as a spirit by some devil bound,
— His voice an unintelligible sound,
His aspect harsh despair and beauty feigned.

Closely I watched it, hour by hour,
— I almost thought I saw it grow,
When first the bud became a flower,
— — I do not know.

Closely I watched thee, O my dove,
— I almost thought I knew thee well.
When liking blossomed into love,
— — I cannot tell.

I CANNOT love you well, love,
— I cannot love again.
Your heaven is my hell, love,
— Your rapture is my pain.

I cannot say once more, love,
— The words that have been said.
My hand is on the door, love,
— My heart is with the dead.

When you would bid me stay, love,
— A voice is in mine ear,
That cries, " Away, away, love!
— How shouldst thou linger here? "

You warmed me at your fire, love,
— But I myself am cold.
God grant you your desire, love,
— And new love for the old.

Before Thine Altar on my bended knees,
When I remember those Thy friends that lie
Helpless and hopeless, sunk in misery,
O Christ, I love Thee, but I love not these.

Without them I may never hope to please
That friend of theirs who had no word to say
When from his side the rich man turned away.
O Christ, Thou lov'st not me. Thou lovest these!

Why is she set so far, so far above me,
— And yet not altogether raised above?
I would give all the world that she should love me,
— My soul that she should never learn to love.

No nearer to thy presence let me stand!
Fate set me in a strange and distant land!
There let my life ruNout its tranquil course,
Unchecked, as now, with every painful breath,
To feel between us a dividing force
More strong than Death!

And say not thou, “This is Love's waning hour.”
By Love's own God, I never felt his power,
The all-commanding terror of his bliss,
Never in passion's noontide loved thee more.
When I compare my former state with this,
I never loved before.

Where, thro' the starry curtains of the night,
— Soft whisp'ring breezes wake the ruddy morn,
Whose sparkling eye darts forth returning light,
— Whose golden brows refulgent beams adorn:

Where gaudy blossoms o'er the tufted vale,
Fling their soft breathings on the spicy gale,
From the lorn Nightingale on yonder spray,
In melting murmurs steals the love-fraught lay;

Stranger to joy and hopeless of relief,
— At morn's proud glow — and twilight's pensive hour,
— Her widow'd breast its plaintive song shall pour,

Tell me, Love, when I rove o'er some far distant plain,
— Shall I cherish the passion that dwells in my breast?
Or will Absence subdue the keen rigours of pain,
— And the swift wing of Time bring the balsam of rest?

Shall the image of him I was born to adore ,
— Inshrin'd in my bosom my idol still prove?
Or seduced by caprice shall fine feeling no more,
— With the incense of Truth gem the altar of Love?

When I view the deep tint of the dew-dropping Rose,
— Where the bee sits enamour'd its nectar to sip;

The land of my home is flitting,
Flitting from my view;
A gale in the sails is sitting,
Toils the merry crew.
Here let my home be,
On the waters wide:
I roam with a proud heart;
Maggie's by my side;
My own love, Maggie dear,
Sitting by my side
Maggie dear, my own love,
Sitting by my side.
The wind howling o'er the billow
From the distant lea,
The storm raging'round my pillow
Brings no care to me.
Roll on ye dark waves,
O'er the troubled tide:
I heed not your anger,

Beneath the white thorn lovely May
[Three Virgins at the Break of day
Whither Young Man whither away]
Alas for wo alas for wo alas for wo
They cry & tears for ever flow
The one was clothd in flames of fire
The other clothd in [sweet desire] Iron wire
The other clothd in [sighs] & tears & sighs
Dazzling bright before my Eyes
They bore a Net of Golden twine
To hang upon the branches fine
[Pitying I wept to see the woe
That Love & Beauty undergo
To be consumd in burning fires
And in ungratified desires]