poems about love

I

To love thee brings me sadness, for I know
each time the time will never come again,—
that every moment brings the darker stain
of riper manhood. Liker as we grow,
Love stirs his wings, impatient to remain.

II

Each night of love from such a love doth part
thy forward-looking self. At each remove
from boyhood thou art further from my love,
though nearer to the knowledge of my heart.
Love joineth us the closer to dispart.

To G, her one and only rose,
Her A this bond of true love shows.
Ah, how can I endure the pain
Or patience to the utmost strain
Till you have come back home again?
Am I a stone that should not yearn,
Do you believe, for your return?
All day, all night, I'm anguish-tossed
Like one who foot and hand has lost.
Without you, all that joys my blood
Is little more than trampled mud.
Far from rejoicing, I shed tears
And never happiness appears.
When I recall how you caressed
So joyously, my little breast

To C —
her lover,
sweeter than honey or honeycomb,

B —
sends her loving.
Uniquely special,
Why do you delay
so long,
so far?
Why do you want your only one to die,
me,
your soul and body lover,
me,
your little starveling bird,
Sighing for you
every hour,
every second?
Without your honied presence
I want
to hear no one,
to see no one.
Like the turtle on its shrivelled branch
Forever mourning for its mate
I
too
endless

In the glad spring when leaves were green,
O merrily the throstle sings!
I sought, amid the tangled sheen,
Love whom mine eyes had never seen,
O the glad dove has golden wings!

Between the blossoms red and white,
O merrily the throstle sings!
My love first came into my sight,
O perfect vision of delight,
O the glad dove has golden wings!

The yellow apples glowed like fire.
O merrily the throstle sings!
O Love too great for lip or lyre,
Blown rose of love and of desire,

'Tis said but a name is friendship,
Soulless, and shallow, and vain;
That the human heart ne'er beats in response,
Or echoes sweet sympathy's strain.

But to-day in " memory's mirror "
Came a dear and honored one,
Whom in days gone by had lived and had loved,
Ere her heavenly goal was won.

Her countenance beamed as of yore,
With radiant smiles of love,
And I felt that the friendship she lavished me here,
Had ripened in heaven above.

I felt that her voice so winsome,

He saw them tasked with heavy burthens all,
Bowed down and weary 'neath the heavy load;
With none their faltering footsteps home to call,
Or point them out the strait and narrow road;
His spirit bore their burthens, as his own,
He healed the sick, restored the sightless eyes;
He heard the mourner for a loved one moan,
And bade the dead from out the grave arise!
Truly on him the Spirit did descend,
For he, by works divine, its influence proved;
Of all our race Consoler, Guide, and Friend,

The tired heart sleeps well through the night
I sleep well
the owner of a lonely heart in flannel
what is it, there quietly moving in dream a suckling
freezing from cold a fly's whimper
bumm bumm bumm bumm bumm bumm.

I feel sorrow over the dust-white light of this room
I feel lonely about the powerless tremor of this life.

My love
you're sitting there, by the pillow on my bed
my love, you're sitting there.
Your slender neck
your hair you've grown long
listen, my gentle love

Three sang of love together: one with lips
Crimson, with cheeks and bosom in a glow,
Flushed to the yellow hair and finger-tips;
And one there sang who soft and smooth as snow
Bloomed like a tinted hyacinth at a show;
And one was blue with famine after love,
Who like a harpstring snapped rang harsh and low
The burden of what those were singing of.
One shamed herself in love; one temperately
Grew gross in soulless love, a sluggish wife;

One famished died for love. Thus two of three

'Tis now since I sat down before
That foolish fort, a heart,
( Time strangely spent) a year, and more,
And still I did my part:

Made my approaches, from her hand
Unto her lip did rise,
And did already understand
The language of her eyes;

Proceeded on with no less art,
My tongue was engineer:
I thought to undermine the heart
By whispering in the ear.

When this did nothing, I brought down
Great canon-oaths, and shot
A thousand thousand to the town,
And still it yielded not.

'Tis not my ladies face that makes me love her,
Though beauty there doth rest,
Enough t' inflame the breast
On one, that never did discover
The glories of a face before;
But I that have seen thousands more
See nought in hers, but what in others are,
Only because I think she's fair , she's fair .