love poetry

The love that I hae chosen,
I'll therewith be content;
The saut sea sall be frozen
Before that I repent.
Repent it sall I never
Until the day I dee;
But the Lawlands o' Holland
Hae twinn'd my love and me.

My love he built a bonny ship,
And set her to the main,
Wi' twenty-four brave mariners
To sail her out and hame.
But the weary wind began to rise,
The sea began to rout,
And my love and his bonny ship
Turned withershins about.

There sall nae mantle cross my back,

VERSE 1

Though it's a fickle age,
With flirting all the rage,
Here is one bird with self-control,
Happy inside my cage.
I know who I love best,
Thumbs down on all the rest,
My love was given heart and soul,
So it can stand the test.

REFRAIN

No one to talk with,
All by myself,
No one to walk with
But I'm happy on the shelf,
Ain't misbehavin',
I'm savin' my love for you.
I know for certain
The one I love,

Love somebody, yes I do;
Love somebody, yes I do;
Love somebody, yes I do;
Love somebody, but I won't tell who.
Love somebody, yes I do;
Love somebody, yes I do;
Love somebody, yes I do;
And I hope somebody loves me too.

Love somebody, yes I do;
Love somebody, yes I do;
Love somebody, yes I do;
Love somebody, but I won't tell who.
Love somebody, yes I do;
Love somebody, yes I do;
Love somebody, yes I do;
'Tween sixteen and twenty-two.

VERSE

I expect every one
Of my crowd to make fun
Of my proud protestations of faith in romance,
And they'll say I'm naive
As a babe to believe
Any fable I hear from a person in pants.
Fearlessly I'll face them and argue their doubts away.
Loudly I'll sing about flowers and spring.
Flatly I'll stand on my little flat feet and say,
Love is a grand and a beautiful thing!
I'm not ashamed to reveal
The world-famous feeling I feel.

REFRAIN

— Love not too much. But how,
When thou hast made me such,
And dost thy gifts bestow,
How can I love too much?
— Though I must fear to lose,
And drown my joy in care,
With all its thorns I choose
The path of love and prayer.

— Though thou, I know not why,
Didst kill my childish trust,
That breach with toil did I
Repair, because I must:
— And spite of frighting schemes,
With which the fiends of Hell
Blaspheme thee in my dreams,
So far I have hoped well.

— But what the heavenly key,

Love not, love not, ye hapless sons of clay!
— Hope's gayest wreaths are made of earthly flowers —
Things that are made to fade and fall away,
— When they have blossomed but a few short hours.
Love not, love not!

Love not, love not! The thing you love may die —
— May perish from the gay and gladsome earth;
The silent stars, the blue and smiling sky,
— Beam on its grave as once upon its birth.
Love not, love not!

Love not, love not! The thing you love may change,
— The rosy lip may cease to smile on you;

Love me at last, or if you will not,
Leave me;
Hard words could never, as these half-words,
Grieve me:
Love me at last — or leave me.

Love me at last, or let the last word uttered
Be but your own;
Love me, or leave me — as a cloud, a vapor,
Or a bird flown.
Love me at last — I am but sliding water
Over a stone.

Love me, and never leave me,
Love, nor ever deceive me,
And I shall always bless you
If I may undress you:
Which I heard a lover say
To his sweetheart where they lay.

He, though he did undress her,
Did not always bless her;
She, though she would not leave him,
Often did deceive him;
Yet they loved, and when they died
They were buried side by side.

Love , like Ulysses,
Is a wanderer,
For new fields always
And new faces yearning. . . .
Put by, O waiting ones,
Put by your weaving,
Unlike Ulysses,
Love is unreturning.

Love, like a mountain-wind upon an oak,
Falling upon me, shakes me leaf and bough.