love poetry

Between the stars, the light-waves on and on
Roll from the scenes of earth's past history
Unto the margins of eternity.
No day is lost of all that ever shone,
Each with its story into space hath gone
So that, to-night, some distant world may see,
Looking at earth, the Cross on Calvary,
Or the green plain and camps at Marathon
Dear heart, whose life is woven into mine,
Who art the light and music of my days,
We move towards death, yet let us have no fear;
If nothing dies, not even light's faintest rays,

I saw old Duchesses with their young Loves,
I, in a pair of very shabby gloves;
Even my shapeless garments could not make me sad,
For I remembered I was young as you, dear Lad.
That I am lovelier without my dress,
Gave me sweet wanton happiness.

Oh, the anchor's aweigh, the anchor's aweigh, Farewell,
fare you well, my own true love. At last we parted on the
shore, As the tears rolled gently from her eyes. “Must you go leave me
now,” she did say, “That I face this all alone?” Oh, the

One sunniest morn among youth's sunny days
When all the light of life—like that which passed
The eastern panes, and tinted glories cast—
Was summerhued for me with rainbow rays.

One happiest hour in all the hours I've knelt
And prayed for happiness. All sorrow-pain
That ever saddened me returned in vain:
Life's burden fell when love unloosed the belt.

The holiest time in church I ever spent;
Not there to rest awhile and idly think
Or dream, but every word with thought to link.

My face is as brown as a berry,
You'd never take me for a swell:
But that will not make me less merry,
So long as my girl loves me well.

That kettle is just like your lover:
Outside 'tis as ugly as sin;
But go now, and lift up the cover—
Perhaps there's a chicken within.

And look at that hedgehog out yonder:
He's ugly enough for a show;
And his bristles, why, they are a wonder—
And yet he's good eating, you know.

So if you will marry me early—
So if you'll be gentle and true—

Daisies, does he love me?
Daisies, tell me true.
“Loves me does not love me”
That will never do!
Why, you know, you daisies,
Whatever you may say,
He stole that knot of riband
I wore the other day.

Daisies, one more trial;
Let your petals fall.
“Loves me does not love me
Loves me,” after all!
Thank you, darling daisies,
And if it ends that way
I'll wear you in a garland
Upon my wedding day.

Love should be pure and passionate, a thing
Of flame and flowers frail, elusive, bright,
A sudden splendour, a most proud delight,
Tender as flowers by day,
And fierce as fire by night,
A singing wonder ever on the wing,
A magical, mad mood too sweet to stay.

Love is an inspiration which reveals
The grace of the beloved to our glad eyes,
So we who worship vehemently are wise,
Since shy, strange beauty slips
For us her dark disguise;
And softly from her secret hiding steals,

One's own lips are his heart's best enemies,
And their report True Love but faintly heeds:
O Friend, forget both words and silences,
And learn to read great love in little deeds!

The blooming flowers, the galaxies of space,
Lie pictured in a sheeny drop of even;
And globed in one round word, on lips of grace,
Shine out the best of earth and all of heaven.

1. There is no name so sweet on earth, No name so sweet in heaven,
The name before his wondrous birth, To Christ the Saviour given.
For there's no word ears ever heard So dear, so sweet as Jesus.
We love to sing around our King, And hail him blessed Jesus.

2. And when he hung upon the tree,
They wrote this name above him,
That all might see the reason we
For evermore must love him.

3. So now, upon his Father's throne,
Almighty to release us
From sin and pains, he ever reigns,
The Prince and Saviour Jesus.