love poetry

If love be life, I long to die,
Live they that list for me;
And he that gains the most thereby
A fool at least shall be:
But he that feels the sorest fits
'Scapes with no less than loss of wits.
Unhappy life they gain
Which love do entertain.

In day by feigned looks they live;
By lying dreams in night.
Each frown a deadly wound doth give,
Each smile a false delight.
If't hap their lady pleasant seem,
It is for other's love they deem;
If void she seem of joy,
Disdain doth make her coy.

If doughty deeds my lady please
Right soon I'll mount my steed;
And strong his arm, and fast his seat,
That bears frae me the meed.
I'll wear thy colours in my cap,
Thy picture in my heart;
And he that bends not to thine eye
Shall rue it to his smart.
Then tell me how to woo thee, love;
O tell me how to woo thee!
For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take,
Thro' ne'er another trow me.
If gay attire delight thine eye
I'll dight me in array;
I'll tend thy chamber door all night,
And squire thee all the day.

I would ask of you, my darling,
A question soft and low,
That gives me many a heartache
As the moments come and go.

Your love I know is truthful,
But the truest love grows cold;
It is this that I would ask you:
Will you love me when I'm old?

Life's morn will soon be waning,
And its evening bells be tolled,
But my heart shall know no sadness,
If you'll love me when I'm old.

Down the stream of life together
We are sailing side by side,
Hoping some bright day to anchor

I wot full well that beauty cannot last;
No rose that springs but lightly doth decay,
And feature like a lily leaf doth waste,
Or as the cowslip in the midst of May;
I know that tract of time doth conquer all,
And beauty's buds like fading flowers do fall.

That famous dame, fair Helen, lost her hue
When withered age with wrinkles changed her cheeks,
Her lovely looks did loathsomeness ensue,
That was the A per se of all the Greeks.
And sundry more that were as fair as she,
Yet Helen was as fresh as fresh might be.

I went to the coffeehouse
intending to forget
our love and bury
my sorrows, but
you emerged
from the bottom of my
coffee cup,

I wear a snow-white rose today
— In sacred memory,
In silent tribute to the love
— My mother bore for me.

The fairest flower will fade and die,
— But deeds live on for aye;
A life well lived shows proof of love
— Far more than words we say.

So I would live from day to day
— That all my life shall be
A living tribute to that love —
— A faithful memory.

I wear a snow-white rose today
In sacred memory,
In silent tribute to the love
My mother bore for me.

I watched thee when the foe was at our side,
Ready to strike at him--or thee and me,
Were safety hopeless--rather than divide
Aught with one loved save love and liberty.

I watched thee on the breakers, when the rock
Received our prow and all was storm and fear,
And bade thee cling to me through every shock;
This arm would be thy bark, or breast thy bier.

I watched thee when the fever glazed thine eyes,
Yielding my couch, and stretched me on the ground
When overworn with watching, ne'er to rise

I WAS foretold your rebel sex
Nor love nor pity knew;
And with what scorn you use to vex
Poor hearts that humbly sue.
Yet I believed, to crown our pain,
Could we the fortress win,
The happy lover sure should gain
A paradise within:
I thought Love's plagues, like dragons, sat
Only to fright us at the gate.

But I did enter, and enjoy
What happy lovers prove;
For I could kiss, and sport, and toy,
And taste those sweets of love,
Which, had they but a lasting state,
Or if in Celia's breast

I want to die while you love me,
— — While yet you hold me fair,
While laughter lies upon my lips
— — And lights are in my hair.

I want to die while you love me,
— — And bear to that still bed,
Your kisses turbulent, unspent,
— — To warm me when I'm dead.

I want to die while you love me,
— — Oh, who would care to live
Till love has nothing more to ask
— — And nothing more to give!

I want to die while you love me
— — And never, never see
The glory of this perfect day

I walked one day on a lonely road,
My soul in deep despair.
I sought in vain to loose the load,
That sin, my sin, had planted there.

When in the distance I perceived,
A man bent low with care.
He bore in agony a cross,
That sin, my sin, had planted there.

I cried aloud as He drew near,
His hands were pierced and torn.
His grief so far outweighed my own,
And I had dared to mourn.

His eyes of love were turned on me,
His voice was soft and free.
" Why bear you still the load I took,