poems about love

Under battle-flags stained and torn,
Lie gifts from loyal hearts and hands,
Eager to answer love's demands,
And labor even while they mourn.

There is no need to vaunt these wares,
Wrought by man, maid, widow, wife,
For those who ventured limb and life,
Followed by loving hopes and prayers.

Memories born of place and time,
Serve those who keep their holiday
In camp, or hospital, or fray,
Where rings for them no Christmas chime.

Surely there is no heart so cold,
It will not freely give its mite

Under the broken clouds of dawn,
The white leopards eat the grapes
In my vineyard.
And in the sunken splendour of twilight,
The ring pheasants perch among the red fruit
Of my pomegranate trees.
The bright coloured varnish
Scales off the wheels of my chariots,
For the horses which should draw them
Have gone Northward in a gloom of spears.
My stablemen march,
Each with a two-edged spear upon his shoulder,
And my orchard tenders have put on the green feathered helmets
And girt themselves with blacks bows.

From glorious Nature's myriad tongues
Though songs be breathed by lips of love,
And though the maiden's fingers fair
Across the thrilling harp-strings rove,
Of all earth's sounds, there is no other
So lovely as the name of brother.

Clasp hands, for we are brothers dear,
Of old by tempest rent apart;
The dark designs of cruel Fate
Shall fail, when heart is joined to heart.
What sound, beneath the stars aflame,
So lovely as a brother's name?

And when our ancient Mother-Land
Beholds her children side by side,

Blind brutal Boy that with thy bou abuses
Leill leisome Love by Lechery and lust,
Judge Jackanapis and Jougler maist unjust
If in thy rageing resone thou refuises;
To be thy chiftanes changers ay thou chuisis
To beir thy baner, so they be robust.
Fals Tratur Turk betrayer under trust
Why maks thou Makrels of the Modest Muses?
Art thou a God; no, bot a Gok disguysit,
A bluiter buskit lyk a belly blind,
With wings and quaver waving with the wind,
A plane playmear for Vanitie devysit.

Little Sally Sand
Sittin' in the sand,
Weepin', cryin'
For a young man,

Rise, Sally, rise,
Wipe your dirty eyes,
Turn to the east and turn to the west,
And turn to the one that you love best.

All you that have indulgent Parents been
And have your Children in perfection seen
Of youth and beuty; lend one Teare to mee
And trust mee I will doe as much for thee
Unlesse my own griefe do exhaust my store
Then will I sigh till I suspire noe more
Twice hath the earth Thrown Cloris Mantle by
Imbroidered or'e with Curious Tapestry
And twice hath seem'd to mourn unto our sight
Like Jewes, or Chinesses in snowey white
Since shee laid down her milkey limbs on Earth
Which dying gave her virgin Soule new birth

Faded spray of mignonette
Can you ever more forget
How you lay that summer night,
In the new moon's silvery light,
Dreaming sweet in tranquil rest
On my true-love's snowy breast?

Since her rosy finger-tips
Bore you to her fragrant lips,
Blessed you with a shadowy kiss,
Nestled you again in bliss,
(Envied of the Gods above)
All is faded save my love.

Whatever I said and whatever you said,
I love you.
The word and the moment forever have fled;
I love you.
The breezes may ruffle the stream in its flow,
But tranquil and clear are the waters below;
And under all tumult you feel and you know
I love you.

Whatever you did and whatever I did,
I love you.
Whatever is open, whatever is hid,
I love you.
The strength of the oak makes the tempest a mock,
The anchor holds firm in the hurricane's shock;
Our love is the anchor, the oak and the rock.
I love you.

For love of lovely words, and for the sake
Of those, my kinsmen and my countrymen,
Who early and late in the windy ocean toiled
To plant a star for seamen, where was then
The surfy haunt of seals and cormorants:
I, on the lintel of this cot, inscribe
The name of a strong tower.