poems about love

I'm a boy of all work, a complete little servant,
Tho' now out of place, like a beggar I rove;
Though in waiting so handy, in duty so fervent,
The Heart (could you think it?) has turn'd away Love!

He pretends to require, growing older and older,
A nurse more expert his chill fits to remove;
But sure ev'ry Heart will grow colder and colder
Whose fires are not lighted and fuel'd by Love!

He fancies that Friendship, my puritan brother,
In journies and visits more useful will prove;

The orange hangs upon the blooming tree,
 The blushing roses load the lifted vine,
 The wandering air, faint-scented of the brine,
Comes stealing softly from the distant sea.

Awake, my love, my love, I sing to thee,
 The stars are dreaming in the far-off sky,
The night's warm wing will shelter thee and me,
 The white-plumed yucca guards the gate hard by.

  Here at thy window, love, I stand,
   And bless thy heart the while;
  Awake, my love, stretch forth thy hand,
   And bless me with thy smile.

One conned my simple lines with cynic art,
Then smiled, as though he found a friend in me,
And read: “If Love alone possess your heart,
Then can you never more unhappy be.”

Another, feeling still Love's bitter dart,
Smiled through her joyful tears triumphantly,
And read: “If Love alone possess your heart,
“Then can you nevermore unhappy be.”

Into the air I breathed a sigh;
She, afar, another breathed —
Sighs that, like a butterfly,
Each went wandering low and high,
Till the air with sighs was wreathed.

When each other long they sought,
On a star-o'er-twinkled hill
Jasmine, trembling with the thought,
Both within her chalice caught,
A lover's potion to distil.

Drank of this a nightingale,
Guided by the starlight wan —
Drank and sang from dale to dale,
Till every streamlet did exhale
Incense to the waking dawn.

Love begg'd and pray'd old Time to stay,
Whilst he and Psyche toy'd together;
Love held his wings, Time tore away,
But, in the scuffle, dropp'd a feather!

Love seiz'd the prize, and with his dart,
Adroitly work'd to trim and shape it; —
" O Psyche! tho' 'tis pain to part,
This charm shall make us half escape it!

" Time need not fear to fly too slow,
When he this useful loss discovers;
A pen's the only plume I know,
That wings his pace for absent lovers! "

Fond dream of love by love repaid,
How soon thy dear illusions flew!
Lavinia smiled, seducing maid!
And then her flattering smile withdrew.

But still that smile, where'er I stray,
In fancy haunts and charms my sight,
Adds splendor to the blaze of day,
And gives it to the gloom of night.

And nought my captive heart can free,
Love as the soul of life I view,
Then, if the soul immortal be,
My love must be immortal too.

TO fair B ELINDA crown the sparkling Bowl,
And let full Bumpers brighten up the Soul;
Yet these small Comforts to my Passion prove,
I'd drink an everlasting DraughTof Love.

Hence far from me, ye senseless joys
That fade before ye reach the heart,....
The crowded dome's distracted noise,
Where all is pomp and useless art!

Give me my home, to quiet dear,
Where hours untold and peaceful move;
So fate ordain I sometimes there
May hear the voice of him I love.

I hate e'en music's pleasing power
When giddy crowds my tones attend,
But love to sing at evening's hour
To sooth the sorrows of a friend.

I love to breathe the plaintive lays
That Henry's heart and taste approve,

THE SONG .

The Eastern portal glows:
The golden glittering doors
Melt now before the glorious sun, which pours
 A sanguine sea of light, and warmth, and mirth,
Till Heaven's great cup o'erflows
 And morning's red wine floods the rounded earth.

 Awake, O ye that sleep!
  Awake! Awake!!!
 But not to weep—
Tears must not flow to-day;
Let sorrow bide, fast-locked and hid away
  In some vast deep,
For Jesus' sake
  We pray

Soft is the sky, and the joy of birds
Breaks from the copse on the budding brae,
And the air hath the dream of the peaceful herds
That graze in the fields to-day.
And the brook hath a turn in its wavering strain
That steals to my heart like a passionate thought,
The phantoms of evil assail me in vain
And I set the world's wisdom at naught.

For my Love goeth forth and her robes are white,
White like the clouds at the break of the dawn,
Fair — fair — and a madness doth burn in my sight,