love poetry

“G IVE me a fillet, Love,” quoth I,
“To bind my Sweeting's heart to me,
So ne'er a chance of earth or sky
Shall part us ruthlessly:
A fillet, Love, but not to chafe
My Sweeting's soul, to cause her pain;
But just to bind her close and safe
Through snow and blossom and sun and rain:
A fillet, boy!”
Love said, “Here's joy.”

“Give me a fetter, Life,” quoth I,
“To bind to mine my Sweeting's heart,
So Death himself must fail to pry
With Time the two apart:
A fetter, Life, that each shall wear,

Thou Cause and Subject, once of Wit, and Love!
Whose Love alone, cou'd Mens good Sense improve;
For, tho' our Love of other Women does,
Good Wits, and all their Good Parts, more expose
Our Love of you, but more our Reason shows;
Since Man, in you, can at the same time, find
The Pleasure of the Body, and the Mind;
Once, to your Shame, your Parts to all were shown,
But now, (tho' a more Public Woman grown,)
You gain more Reputation in the Town;
Grow Public, to your Honour, not your Shame,

The old man of the mountains loves the mountains:
in the mountains he has built his thatched hut.
At night, there's a storm; the snow is so thick
it snaps branches of bamboo outside the window.

“What does the little boy love?”
He loves this room of fragrant plants!
He wants to mount a flying dragon
and fly to heaven, to see the red sun.

Ballad , since Love himself hath fashioned thee
Within my mind where he doth make abode,
Hie thee to her who through mine eyes bestow'd
Her blessing on my heart, which stays with me.

Since thou wast born a handmaiden of Love,
With every grace thou shouldst be perfected,
And everywhere seem gentle, wise, and sweet.
And for that thine aspect gives sign thereof,
I do not tell thee, ‘Thus much must be said:’—
Hoping, if thou inheritest my wit,
And com'st on her when speech may ill befit,

There lies in the center of each man's heart,
A longing and love for the good and pure;
And if but an atom, or larger part,
I tell you this shall endure—endure
After the body has gone to decay—
Yea, after the world has passed away.

The longer I live and the more I see
Of the struggle of souls toward the heights above,
The stronger this truth comes home to me:
That the Universe rests on the shoulders of love;
A love so limitless, deep, and broad,
That men have renamed it and called it—God.

Fly away, fly away, over the sea,
Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done.
Come again, come again, come back to me,
Bringing the summer and bringing the sun.

The bright blue wave were sad and drear
Without its sea-bird white:
The rose would die, did it not hear
The soft breeze sing at night:
Lest heaven should be the storm-wind's prey,
Love made the grand sun shine:
Lest clouds should cover all my day,
He made thy splendour mine!

Love sent the sweetest thing on earth
To charm me and to chain;
To thrill my soul to tenderest mirth,
Or—pierce my heart with pain!
Love bade the blue sea kiss the land,
The gold shore kiss the sea,
Then made the marvel of thine hand,

And now the sad thought fills my heart with tears
And stills my very singing for awhile.—
When love is born, the farthest white clouds smile
And fragrance wafted from remotest years
Greets us, and all June's chanting fills our ears.
We linger, as one lingers on a stile
'Tween meadow and meadow. Flowers so fair beguile
Our fancy that it hath no room for fears.

When love is born, the farthest star-lips sing
And music fills the temples of the sky.
Who dreams of Winter when the green-clad Spring

The may bush smells sae very sweet
The crimson threeds sae fine
The chaffinch builds her nest sae neat
& shepherd's sit to dine
Aye dear o'me I love to see
The sweetly scented white thorn tree.

The leaves are green & very green
Though bunches o' the may
Whiten till scarcely one is seen
For a whole summers day
Aye dear o' me I love to see
Hedges all white & love the awthorn tree.

It spreads above the little pond
& hides the thrushes nest
The hedge is whiter still beyond