love poetry

Fair , my own darling, are the flowers of Spring . . .
Rathe primrose, violet, and eglantine,
Anemone and golden celandine:
Not less delicious all the birds that sing
Carols of joy upon the amorous wing,
Earine, in these sweet hours of thine.
Spring's youngest sister art thou, Lady mine,

Child who hast love for every living thing
Of earth and air. A moment now I linger—
Linger, and think of thee, and give thee this
Love-gift of rhymes made when my spirit was free.
If thou wilt touch it with a white forefinger—

And if, O Brethren of the Bleeding Heart,
Dreamers amid the Storm where Love gropes blind,
I have cried aloud for Joy to tear apart
The cloud of Fate that broods o'er Humankind;

If 'mid the darkness I have call'd, ‘Rejoice!
God's in His Heaven—the skies are blue and fair!’
If for a moment's space my faltering voice
Hath echoed here the infant's cry and prayer;

'Tis that the pang of pity grew too great,
Too absolute the quick sharp sense of pain,
And in my soul's despair, left desolate,

Spring breezes waft along the avenue
touching willow branches of bright gold.
Beside the road, a well-appointed horseman,
his knightly aura rivaling the spring!
Amidst bamboo, a delicate flower, a peach,
as ravishing as Lovely Lady Tung!
The knight dismounts, and whispers through the leaves,
suspecting she's a flower-spirit there.

Though I die
for love
I will not
bewail my fate—
if only in turn
she will think fondly
of me
as one gone to smoke

To yonder Friend heart-soothing Thanks with complaint I mell;
If love's finesse thou wottest, List to the tale I tell.

All that I wrought of service Thank-and-reward-less passed;
God, be none else allotted Lord so implacable!

To topers athirst none giveth A drop of water to drink;
'T would seem that the lovers of merit Have bidden the realm farewell!

O heart, of the snare of her tresses Beware; for therein to be seen
Are heads, for no fault dissevered, Of lovers uncountable.

I am my Love's laboratory,
For truly he shall find
The proof of his high quality
Within my heart and mind.
Look down, my Love, my Dear,
At the sure change wrought here!

If there be error,
In gentle intimacy
Of love to counsel,
The heart of loyal friendship
Grows ever nearer, dearer.

Lawyers themselves uphold the commonweal.
They punish those that do offend and steal.
They free with cunning art the innocent
From danger, loss and causeless punishment.
They can but will not keep the world in awe
With misexpounded and distended law.
They always have great store of charity
And love they want not, keeping amity.

Penning his comedy called “Man,” the Master
Who shapes his word in symbol and in trope
Made love a gay enigma of disaster,
And life an epigram on the tomb of hope.

Whither Lord, hast Thou withdrawn, after waking love in me?
Faith, my companion, left me, after kindling the wick of Devotion.

In the sea of separation she felt me, after launching the boat of love.
Mira cries, Lord when wilt Thou greet me? Without Thee I can not live.