love poetry

Dearest, if I almost cease to weep for you,
Do not doubt I love you just the same;
'Tis because my life has grown to keep for you
All the hours that sorrow does not claim.

All the hours when I may steal away to you,
Where you lie alone through the long day,
Lean my face against your turf and say to you
All that there is no one else to say.

Do they let you listen—do you lean to me?
Know now what in life you never knew,
When I whisper all that you have been to me,
All that I might never be to you?

Fair is the white star of twilight,
And the sky clearer
At the day's end;
But she is fairer, and she is dearer,
She, my heart's friend!

Fair is the white star of twilight,
And the moon roving
To the sky's end;
But she is fairer, better worth loving,
She, my heart's friend.

Love is a burden, a chain,
Love is a trammel and tie;
Love is disquiet and pain
That slowly go by.

Oh, why should I bind my heart
And bind my sight?
Love is only a part
Of all delight.

Let me have room for the rest,
To find and explore!
Love is greatest and best?
But love closes the door,

Closes us off so long from the ways
And concernments of men
And owns us and hinders our days.
O love, come not again!

I have walked with you all my mile,
Now let me be free, be free!

My soul was thirsty till she came,
My heart was hungry till her eyes
Lighted love's fuel into flame
And taught me Paradise.

I hunger and I thirst no more;
Lo, 'tis a fount where honey drips;
I drink a thousand kisses from
The chalice of her curvèd lips.

Beauty like a bird
Filled my lonely heart;
Oh, the music stirred!
Oh, the lyric-start!

All the tremulous air
Sweet with pollen-scent,
Singing everywhere,
Glory, wonderment.

Oh, the light above,
Oh, the blossoming;
Is it sudden love—
Or the torch of Spring?

The leaves of all the forests,
If thou art skilled to reckon;
If thou canst tell the billows
Of all the seas together;
Of the loves then of my bosom,
I'll make thee sole accountant.
And first of all from Athens,
Of loves put down a twenty,
And then add fifteen others;
And let forsooth from Corinth,
A swarm of loves be added;
For, troth, does not Achaia
Abound with beauteous women?
Then put me down the Lesbians,
And further the Ionians,
And those from Rhodes and Karia,
Of loves, in all two thousand.

I KNOW , Justine, you speak me fair
—As often as we meet;
And 'tis a luxury, I swear,
—To hear a voice so sweet;
And yet it does not please me quite,
—The civil way you've got;
For me you're something too polite—
—Justine, you love me not!

I know Justine, you never scold
—At aught that I may do:
If I am passionate or cold,
—'Tis all the same to you.
“A charming temper,” say the men,
—“To smooth a husband's lot”:
I wish 'twere ruffled now and then—
—Justine you love me not!

I WAS born in Illinois,
Have lived there many days.
And I have Northern words,
And thoughts,
And ways.

But my great-grandfathers came
To the west with Daniel Boone,
And taught his babes to read,
And heard the redbird's tune;

And heard the turkey's call,
And stilled the panther's cry,
And rolled on the blue-grass hills,
And looked God in the eye.

And feud and Hell were theirs;
Love, like the moon's desire,
Love like a burning-mine,
Love like rifle-fire.

I tell tales out of school

There is no Life or Death,
Only activity
And in the absolute
Is no declivity.
There is no Love or Lust
Only propensity
Who would possess
Is a nonentity.
There is no First or Last
Only equality
And who would rule
Joins the majority
There is no Space or Time
Only intensity,
And tame things
Have no immensity.

Deep in a Rose's glowing heart
I dropped a single kiss,
And then I bade it quick depart,
And tell my Lady this:

“The love thy Lover tried to send
O'erflows my fragrant bowl,
But my soft leaves would break and bend,
Should he send half the whole!”