poems about love

Maid of fifteen, in childlike beauty dight,
Fair head with crinkled ringlets golden-tressed,
Rose-petalled forehead, cheeks like amethyst,
Laughter that lifts the soul to Heaven's delight;

And neck like snow, and throat than milk more white,
And heartfull-blossomed neath a budding breast—
Beauty divine in human form expressed,
And virtue worthy of that beauty bright—

An eye whose light can change the night to day,
A gentle hand that smooths away my care,
Yet holds my life caught in its fingers' snare;

I loved, was loved. The puff of smoke called Life
Could give no more. Nothing but dreams remain.
So, having given over bootless strife,
I lie where I may dream, nor dream in vain.

O come, loved Spirit, come to me!
My heart, my heart, invoketh thee.
Though dark and cheerless broods my night,
Thy presence fills it all with light.

O come, loved Spirit, gently come!
O make beside my heart thy home!
Look on me with endearing smile,—
That look shall all my woes beguile.

O be thou ever, ever nigh!
Bend on me thy complacent eye:
Then shall my heart swell up to thee,
My soul be large, my spirit free.

Bear me away, through sun and star,
To worlds of softest light afar:

Oh , that I were a lovely flower
In Christ his bower;
Or that I were a weed, to fade
Under his shade.
But how can I a weed become
If I am shadowed with the Son?

The kiss of friendship, kind and calm,
May fall upon the brow like balm;
A deeper tenderness may speak
In precious pledges on the cheek;
Thrice dear may be, when young lips meet,
Love's dewy pressure, close and sweet;—
But more than all the rest I prize
The faithful lips that kiss my eyes.

Smile, lady, smile, when courtly lips
Touch reverently your finger-tips;
Blush, happy maiden, when you feel
The lips which press love's glowing seal;
But as the slow years darklier roll,
Grown wiser, the experienced soul

Going my way of old
Contented more or less
I dreamt not life could hold
Such happiness.

I dreamt not that love's way
Could keep the golden height
Day after happy day,
Night after night.

A SPIRIT of Love, with Love's intelligence,
Maketh his sojourn alway in my breast,
Maintaining me in perfect joy and rest;
Nor could I live an hour, were he gone thence:
Through whom my love hath such full permanence
That thereby other loves seem dispossess'd.
I have no pain, nor am with sighs oppress'd,
So calm is the benignant influence.
Because this spirit of Love, who speaks to me
Of my dear lady's tenderness and worth,
Says: ‘More than thus to love her seek thou not,
Even as she loves thee in her wedded thought;

Message from San Francisco! Whisper low,
Asleep in bed an hour or so ago,
While on his peaceful pillow he declines,
Say to his friend who sent these loving lines:
“Silent, unanswering, still to friendship true,
He smiles in slumber, for he dreams of you.”

Heartsease I found, where Love-lies-bleeding
Empurpled all the ground:
Whatever flowers I missed unheeding,
Heartsease I found.

Yet still my garden mound
Stood sore in need of watering, weeding,
And binding growths unbound.

Ah, when shades fell to light succeeding
I scarcely dared look round:
“Love-lies-bleeding” was all my pleading,
Heartsease I found.

O may I dare I breath a word
That thy young heart hath never heard
From me—& yet thy timid eye
Turns on me tenderly & shy
A look that often bids me move
My plea & intercede for love.