love poetry

To her, who, cast with me in trying days,
Stood in the place of health, and power, and praise;—
Who, when I thought all light was out, became
A lamp of hope that put my fears to shame;—
Who faced for love's sole sake the life austere
That waits upon the man of letters here;—
Who, unawares, her deep affection showed,
By many a touching little wifely mode;—
Whose spirit self-denying, dear, divine,
Its sorrows hid, so it might lessen mine,—
To her, my bright best friend, I dedicate
This book of songs. 'Twill help to compensate

Thy charms are all decaying, love,
The smile that once was playing, love,
So pure and bright,
It seemed but light
From day's clear fountain straying, love,—

That smile away is stealing, love,
Thy lip no more revealing, love,
The sweets of soul,
That Cupid stole
To fill his cup of feeling, love.

That lip will shed its sweetness, love,
Thy form will lose its fleetness, love,
Arrayed no more,
As when it wore
The snowy veil of neatness, love.

O, time is stealing by us, love,

If 't please you see how Love's might overcame,
How He attacked and how He conquered me,
How my heart burns and freezes for His glee,
How He doth make His Honor of my Shame;

If't please you see my youth running to claim
What brings it nought but pain and contumely,
Then come and read, and know the agony
Of which my Goddess and my God make game.

Then you shall know that Love is reasonless,
A sweet deceit, a dear imprisonment,
An empty hope that feeds us with the wind.

Why am I wakeful thinking of you in the night,
You whom I no longer love,
You who love me no more?
Yet if you would turn the handle of my door
And stand before me white,
Like a young dove,
For just a little while
I think I would look up and smile.

What are these thoughts of you that strangle me
In this silent midnight hour?
Memories, dreams that cloud my eyes
And with strange torture rise,
Mocking my misery.
Somehow I wonder if the flower
Of old-time joy would burst to flame
If, dear, you came.

Yes, thought the sullen east-wind storm,
And sunless skies the Spring deform,
The lovely Nina's graceful hand
Can, like a fairy's lily wand,
Bid every vernal sweet appear,
And bloom with early fragrance here!
Yes here, even here, they breathe perfume,
Though walls of melancholy gloom,
With northern aspect frowning rude,
Each brighter beam of Heaven exclude
Behold! at Nina's soft command,
The flowers their velvet leaves expand,
And sweet, and blue like her own eye,
(That loves in languid peace to lie,

Haste hither, my love, the river
Is tinged with the pale moonlight,
The leaves of the dark trees quiver,
And throb in the parting night.
Why linger, my love, why linger?
Swift fly the hours away,
And soon will Aurora's finger
Point to the dawning day.

The Spirit of Morn doth hover
Above the horizon dark,
'T is time that both Maid and Lover
Were safe in their waiting bark;
Then hasten to meet me, dearest,
Why does my true-love stay?
Oh! haste, and your loved-one nearest,

If love, for love of long time had,
May join with joy, and care hence cast,
Then may remembrance make me glad,
Days, weeks, and years, in all time past
My Love hath loved me so lovingly,
And I will love her as truly.

And as we twain have loved and do,
So be we fixed to love even still;
The law of love hath made us two
To work two willës in one will:
My Love will love me so lovingly,
And I will love her as truly.

Ye lovers all in present place
That long for love continual,

I loved thee once, I love thee still,
My heart is yet thine own;
Thou art its sole and rightful queen,
It is thy royal throne.

What though dark fate between us stands,
And clouds between us roll;
Not clouds, not even fate can stay
The flight of soul to soul.

No power upon the earth below,
Nor none in heaven above;
Time nor eternity can break
The golden chain of love.

And is the water come? sure 't cannot be;
It runs too much against philosophy:
For heavy bodies to the centre bend;
Light bodies only naturally ascend.
How comes this then to pass? The good knight's skill
Could nothing do without the water's will:
Then 'twas the water's love that made it flow;
For love will creep where well it cannot go.

Love planted a rose,
And the world turned sweet.
Where the wheat-field blows
Love planted a rose.
Up the mill-wheel's prose
Ran a music-beat.
Love planted a rose,
And the world turned sweet.