love poetry

Just as he is growing a beard,
The beautiful Lado
(He who despised us all)
Has fallen in love —
With a boy!
Fate is quick to revenge.

Jolly shepherd, shepherd on a hill,
On a hill so merrily,
On a hill so cheerily,
Fear not, shepherd, there to pipe thy fill,
Fill every dale, fill every plain:
Both sing and say, " Love feels no pain."

Jolly shepherd, shepherd on a green,
On a green so merrily,
On a green so cheerily,
Be thy voice shrill, be thy mirth seen,
Heard to each swain, seen to each trull:
Both sing and say, " Love's joy is full."

Jolly shepherd, shepherd in the sun,
In the sun so merrily,

Jim and I as children played together,
Best of friends for many years were we
I, alas! had no luck, was a Jonah,
Jim, my chum, was lucky as could be.
Oh lucky Jim, how I envy him!

Years passed by, still Jim and I were comrades.
He and I both loved the same sweet maid.
She loved Jim, and married him one evening.
Jim was lucky, I unlucky stayed.
Oh lucky Jim, how I envy him!

Years rolled on, and death took Jim away, boys
Left his widow, and she married me.
Now we're married, oft I think of Jim, boys,

Jesus, the friend of lonely, beaten folk,
Comrade, defender of each humble one,
Who put Your generous shoulders to the yoke
That we might live in nobler unison,

Why have we worshiped You with sword and flame,
Placed You, a worker, on a regal throne
And let our brothers' blood flow in Your name
Who loved all human creatures as Your own?

Let us remember You as Mary's son,
A worker, seeking rights for men who toil,
Conscious that we are brothers every one
Upon the glowing earth's fraternal soil.

Jesu Christ, my lemmon swete,
That diyedest on the Rode Tree,
With all my might I thee beseche,
For thy woundes two and three,
That also faste mot thy love
Into mine herte fitched be
As was the spere into thine herte,
Whon thou soffredest deth for me.

The island dreams under the dawn
And great boughs drop tranquillity;
The peahens dance on a smooth lawn,
A parrot sways upon a tree,
Raging at his own image in the enamelled sea.

Here we will moor our lonely ship
And wander with woven hands,
Murmuring softly lip to lip,
Along the grass, along the sands,
Murmuring how far away are the unquiet lands:

How we alone of mortals are
Hid under quiet boughs apart,
While our love grows and Indian star,
A meteor of the burning heart,

It's a grand thing when you're old, love,
To have someone care for you,
Someone to make you happy,
Someone to love you, too.

It makes life bright and gay, love,
When you think of the summer flowers
That you used to nourish in childhood,
In the spring of youth's hours

But oh, it's spring to me, love,
When I look at your earnest gaze
And see the rosy sunbeams
Upon your smiling face.

I would always be gay and happy, love,
If I had you at my side,
It makes me revere the moment, love,

It was the Rainbow gave thee birth,
And left thee all her lovely hues;
And, as her mother's name was Tears,
So runs it in my blood to choose
For haunts the lonely pools, and keep
In company with trees that weep.

Go you and, with such glorious hues,
Live with proud Peacocks in green parks;
On lawns as smooth as shining glass,
Let every feather show its marks;
Get thee on boughs and clap thy wings
Before the windows of proud kings.

Nay, lovely Bird, thou are not vain;

It was many and many a year ago,
In a dwelling down in town,
That a fellow there lived whom you may know,
By the name of Samuel Brown;
And this fellow he lived with no other thought
Than to our house to come down.

I was a child, and he was a child,
In that dwelling down in town,
But we loved with a love that was more than love,
I and my Samuel Brown, —
With a love that the ladies coveted,
Me and Samuel Brown.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
To that dwelling down in town,

It was a friar of orders gray
— Walked forth to tell his beads;
And he met with a lady fair
— Clad in a pilgrim's weeds.

" Now Christ thee save, thou reverend friar;
— I pray thee tell to me,
If ever at yon holy shrine
— My true-love thou didst see. "

" And how should I know your true-love
— From many another one? "
" O, by his cockle hat, and staff,
— And by his sandal shoon.

" But chiefly by his face and mien,
— That were so fair to view;
His flaxen locks that sweetly curled,