love poetry

When Beauty fills the lover's eyes,
And lives like doubtful weather,
Her bosom seems to sleep with love;
They lie like birds together.

Love finds them angels ready made,
So beautiful and blooming;
But Time comes in, though half afraid,
And rudely calls them woman.

Time, like a robber, every year
Takes all the fame he gives;
While Beauty only goes away,
And Virtue only lives.

Love in a showre of Blossomes came
Down, and halfe drown'd me with the same:
The Blooms that fell were white and red;
But with such sweets commingled,
As whether (this) I cannot tell
My sight was pleas'd more, or my smell:
But true it was, as I rowl'd there,
Without a thought of hurt, or feare;
Love turn'd himselfe into a Bee,
And with his Javelin wounded me:
From which mishap this use I make,
Where most sweets are, there lyes a Snake.
Kisses and Favours are sweet things;
But Those have thorns, and These have stings.

Instead of Orient Pearls, of Jet,
I sent my Love a Karkanet:
About her spotlesse neck she knit
The lace, to honour me, or it:
Then think how wrapt was I to see
My Jet t'enthrall such Ivorie.

Love love begets, then never be
Unsoft to him who's smooth to thee.
Tygers and Beares (I've heard some say)
For profer'd love will love repay:
None are so harsh, but if they find
Softnesse in others, will be kind;
Affection will affection move,
Then you must like, because I love.

For Syrian fields preparing,
Dunois the young and bold,
While trumpet-calls were blaring
And drums impatient rolled,
Two boons the best and rarest
At Mary's shrine implored:
“To love the maiden fairest,
To bear the bravest sword!”

True faith outvalues daring;
Dunois was sword and shield,
His liege's banner bearing
On many a bloody field.
Still faithful, fearless, prayed he,
In camp or march or fight:
“Be mine the fairest lady,
Be hers the bravest knight!”

“And now we are victorious,

Come , my Corinna, let us try
Which loves you best, of you, and I;
I know you oft have in your glasse,
Seene the faint shaddow of your face,
And, consequently, then became
A wond'ringe lover as I am;
Though not so great a one, for what
You saw, was but a glimpse of that
So sweet, so charminge Majestie,
Which I in its full luster see:
But, if you then had gaz'd upon
Your selfe, as your reflection,
And seene those eys for which I dye,
Perhapps you'd beene as sick, as I.
Thus, Sweetest, then it is confest!

On me to rest, my bird, my bird:
The swaying branches of my heart
Are blown by every wind toward
The home whereto their wings depart.

Build not your nest, my bird, on me;
I know no peace but ever sway:
O lovely bird, be free, be free,
On the wild music of the day.

But sometimes when your wings would rest,
And winds are laid on quiet eves:
Come, I will bear you breast to breast,
And lap you close with loving leaves.

Blest is the man who loves and after early play
Whereby his limbs are supple made and strong,
Retiring to his house, with wine and song
Toys with a fair boy on his breast the livelong day!

There is a channel called love
Through the dark way;
Behold! we feel, see wild mass of trees
And blindness to bind us.

The numbness that God has wrought—
We, his exuberant children;
O soul, how many plays in love are sought!
An author's maimed, countless thrill gains.

Halt! spot we own is drawing nearer.
Do you dare to enter at dawn
Where the clouds settle in the north—
And find the way where trembling is dearer?

Well! through the path I strove;
I know not who followed.

Let time and chance combine, combine,
—Let time and chance combine;
The fairest love from heaven above,
—That love of yours was mine,
My dear,
—That love of yours was mine.

The past is fled and gone, and gone,
—The past is fled and gone;
If naught but pain to me remain,
—I'll fare in memory on,
My dear,
—I'll fare in memory on.

The saddest tears must fall, must fall,
—The saddest tears must fall;
In weal or woe, in this world below,
—I love you ever and all,
My dear,
—I love you ever and all.