love poetry

'Twas summer eve, and I had wander'd
Where lofty trees o'erhang the wave,
That, rippling on its course, meander'd
By my Mary's early grave.
The pale moon o'er the scene presided,
And not a zephyr stirr'd the grove;
The hour, the stream that near me glided,
All brought to mind my buried love.

The last time I had wander'd hither,
Mary was warbling by my side—
Thou fairest flower! doom'd to wither
In youth and beauty's stainless pride:
I wept not o'er thy narrow dwelling,
With not one tear my cheek was wet—

Light—light upon my soul!
Downward it streams from its celestial fountains;
About me glows like sunrise on the mountains;
It bringeth gladsome cheer,
Farewell my night of fear!

Life—life I feel within!
Fresh from its rich, immortal source descending,
It lends me power divine, forever ending
The weakness felt before;
I now can faint no more.

Love—love my bosom fills!
From Him whose name is Love, it comes, inspiring
Deep, warm, responsive love, my spirit firing
With holy rapturous glow,

From heaven there fell upon the foaming wave
A timid drop; the flood with anger roar'd,—
But God, its modest boldness to reward,
Strength to the drop and firm endurance gave.
Its form the mussel captive took.
And to its lasting glory and renown,
The pearl now glistens in our monarch's crown,
With gentle gleam and loving look.

Writes he in Neski,
Faithfully speaks he;
Writes he in Talik,
Joy to give, seeks he:
Writes he in either,
Good!—for he loves!

Love for love, and moments sweet,
Lips returning kiss for kiss,
Word for word, and eyes that meet;
Breath for breath, and bliss for bliss.
Thus at eve, and thus the morrow!
Yet thou feelest, at my lay,
Ever some half-hidden sorrow;
Could I Jussuf's graces borrow,
All thy beauty I'd repay!

List , and in memory bear
These six fond loving pair.
Love, when aroused, kept true
Rustan and Rodawu!
Strangers approach from far
Jussuf and Suleika;
Love, void of hope, is in
Ferhad and Schirin.
Born for each other are
Medschnun and Leila;
Loving, though old and grey,
Dschemil saw Boteinah.
Love's sweet caprice anon,
Brown maid and Solomon!
If thou dost mark them well,
Stronger thy love will swell.

I HAVE been there before thee, O my love!
—Each winding way I know and all the flowers,
The shadowy cypress trees, the twilight grove,
—Where rest, in fragrant sleep, the enchanted hours.

I have been there before thee. At the end
—There stands a gate through which thou too must pass.
When thou shalt reach it, God in mercy send
—Thou say no bitterer word, love, than “Alas!”

When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away?

The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom--is to die.

Bright dames when first we meet unheeded passe
We read frail charms on Monuments of Glasse.

In Joylesse Streams the Purple Chrystall flows
Till each is nam'd for whome each Bosom glows.

Then Friendship Love and Wine Unite their fires
Then all their Homage pay, where each admires.

Her breasts, white nuns
Before her eyes—
O hands be
As the smile on a child's face.
Her knees, pale fruit
Whose seed grew from a wish.
Her thighs, boughs of apple blossoms—
O wind blow not too strong.
Her belly, fairy hill of snow.
Her hair, sunlight
In long pale grass limp with dew.
Her voice, sea-mist, wine, flying birds,
White clouds,
Whispers between earth and sky in spring.

This, my love—
She whom I carry
As a bell carries its tongue.
This, my love—
She who makes my days