love poetry

Hang there, my garlands, by the hall,
The tear-stained wreaths that now I bring,
Nor let your blossoms lightly fall
Bedewed with grief, love's offering.

And when the door is opened wide
And she I crave at last appears,
Pour on her head your mournful tide,
Her golden locks shall drink my tears.

Her Breasts my hands, her lips my kisses hold,
Her neck is forage for my passion bold;
But there all ends; no further may I go
Nor ever shall the joy of victory know.
Two queens she serves, a double victim I,
For one is Love and one is Chastity.

Away, through bramble, bush, and trees,
Ere the wingëd joyance fly
Drain the cup unto the lees
Nature gives with loving eye.

Drink with thirsty spirit, drink
The breathing spring; the winds that pass;
Sink with joy delicious, sink,
Deep in moss and dewy grass.

Happy as the sounding horn,
Through the waking woods I'd sweep;
Flattering the fair vales at morn,
Echoing through the cloven steep.

Like the early sunrise bright,
Full of love's divinest sheen,
Would I bathe, O rare delight!

What is it to educate a human soul?
Is it to teach it how to read, and write,
Grammar, Arithmetic; is this the whole?
Can these alone teach it to live aright?
Such knowledge is but means unto an end,
Too oft to earth's brief, narrow sphere confined;
But higher thoughts there are, that these transcend,
Motives enduring as the human mind;
The love of knowledge, human and divine,
The love of goodness, purity, and truth;
Happy the teacher, who can souls incline
To virtuous ends, in early days of youth;

My love is as endless
as the waves of the Sea of Ariso
that, driven by fierce winds,
never cease their breaking

Love still is Love, and doeth all things well,
Whether He show me heaven or hell
Or earth in her decay
Passing away
On a day.

Love still is Love, tho' He should say, “Depart,”
And break my incorrigible heart,
And set me out of sight
Widowed of light
In the night.

Love still is Love, is Love, if He should say,
“Come,” on that uttermost dread day;
“Come,” unto very me,
“Come where I be,
Come and see.”

Love still is Love, whatever comes to pass:
O Only Love, make me Thy glass,

She never comes to me
She promised me a thousand times
That she would dearly dearly love me
That in sickness & in health
Others present others absent
Whilst air was round & heaven above me
She would be present as my life
My holy gentle tender wife

She promised in my secret ear
When none but God & I could hear
That she would cleave to me forever
There was one will between us
There was one heart within us
And God upon his children smiled
As we the hours with love beguiled

And now I am alone

Beautie's no other but a lovely Grace
Of lively colours, flowing from the face.

Why did I wrong my judgment so,
As to affect, where I did know
There was no hold for to be taken,
That which her heart thirsts after most?
If once of it her hope can boast,
Straight by her folly is forsaken.

Thus while I still pursue in vain,
Methinks I turn a child again;
And of my shadow am a-chasing,
For all her favours are to me,
Like apparitions which I see—
Yet ne'er come near th' embracing.

Oft have I wish'd that there had been
Some Almanac whereby to 've seen,

Alas! what Pains, what racking Thoughts he proves,
Who lives remov'd from her he dearest loves!
In cruel Absence doom'd past Joys to mourn,
And think on Hours that will no more return!
Oh! let me ne'er the Pangs of Absence try,
Save me from Absence, Love, or let me die.