poems about love

TO
[Mrs. M. R.]
COUNCEL
CONCERNING HER
CHOISE.

Dear, heavn-designed Soul !
Amongst the rest
Of suters that beseige your Maiden brest,
Why may not I
My fortune try
And venture to speak one good word
Not for my self alas, but for my dearer L ORD ?
You'ave seen allready, in this lower sphear

Daily walked the fair and lovely
Sultan's daughter in the twilight, —
In the twilight by the fountain,
Where the sparkling waters plash.

Daily stood the young slave silent
In the twilight by the fountain,
Where the plashing waters sparkle,
Pale and paler every day.

Once by twilight came the princess
Up to him with rapid questions:
" I would know thy name, thy nation,
Whence thou comest, who thou art. "

And the young slave said, " My name is
Mahomet, I come from Yemmen.

There is a love that tumbles like a stream,
Frothing and foaming down a budded way;
There is a love like ocean depths that move
Hidden, eternal — winter as in May.

There is a love that stumbles through its lines
Trying to say what love can never say;
There is another — patient, tender, strong
Serving and blessing till the close of day.

Conceit begotten by the eyes
Is quickly born, and quickly dies,
For while it seeks our hearts to have,
Meanwhile there reason makes his grave;
For many things the eyes approve,
Which yet the heart doth seldom love.

For as the seeds in springtime sown
Die in the ground ere they be grown,
Such is conceit, whose rooting fails,
As child that in the cradle quails,
Or else within the mother's womb
Hath his beginning, and his tomb.

Affection follows Fortune's wheels,
And soon is shaken from her heels;

Come, I will make the continent indissoluble,
I will make the most splendid race the sun ever shone
upon,
I will make divine magnetic lands,
With the love of comrades,
With the life-long love of comrades.

I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the
rivers of America, and
along the shores of the great lakes, and all over the
prairies,
I will make inseparable cities with their arms about
each other's necks,
By the love of comrades,
By the manly love of comrades.

Choose me your Valentine;
Next, let us marry:
Love to the death will pine,
If we long tarry.

Promise, and keep your vowes,
Or vow ye never:
Loves doctrine disallowes
Troth-breakers ever.

You have broke promise twice
(Deare) to undoe me;
If you prove faithlesse thrice,
None then will wooe ye.

Come now, and let us wake them: time
It is that they arise!
But gently to the window climb,
Where love with love together sleeping lies.

I heard a gently flowing river:
Methought it was the Rhine.
And at her window, with his quiver,
Stood Cupid shooting at a love of mine.

I brake three lilies from their stem,
And in at the window threw:
Sleeping or waking, cherish them;
And rise, sweet love, and let me in to you.

" How would it be, were I asleep,
And could not let you in?

‘Come my own one, come my fond one,
Come my dearest unto me.
Will you wed with a jolly sailor lad
That's just returned from sea?’

‘You are ragged, love, you are dirty, love,
And you smell so much of the tar.
So begone, you saucy sailor boy,
So begone, you Jack Tar.’

‘If I'm ragged, love, if I'm dirty, love,
If I smell so much of the tar,
I got silver in my pocket, love,
And gold in bright store.’

So when she heard these words come from him,
On her bended knees she fell.

Come, love, for now the night and day
Play with their pawns of black and white,
And what day loses in her play
Is won by the encroaching night.

The elematis grows old and clings
Grey-bearded to the roadside trees
And in the hedge the nightshade strings
Her berries in bright necklaces.

The fields are bare; the latest sheaf
Of barley, wheat and rusty rye
Is stacked long since; and every leaf
Burns like a sunset on the sky.

Come, love, for night and day, alas,
Are playing for a heavier stake

Come listen, O Love, to the voice of the dove,
Come, hearken and hear him say,
There are many To-morrows, my Love, my Love, —
There is only one To-day.

And all day long you can hear him say
This day in purple is rolled,
And the baby stars of the milky-way —
They are cradled in cradles of gold.

Now what is thy secret, serene gray dove,
Of singing so sweetly alway?
" There are many To-morrows, my Love, my Love, —
There is only one To-day. "