poems about love

Haste hither, my love, the river
Is tinged with the pale moonlight,
The leaves of the dark trees quiver,
And throb in the parting night.
Why linger, my love, why linger?
Swift fly the hours away,
And soon will Aurora's finger
Point to the dawning day.

The Spirit of Morn doth hover
Above the horizon dark,
'T is time that both Maid and Lover
Were safe in their waiting bark;
Then hasten to meet me, dearest,
Why does my true-love stay?
Oh! haste, and your loved-one nearest,

If love, for love of long time had,
May join with joy, and care hence cast,
Then may remembrance make me glad,
Days, weeks, and years, in all time past
My Love hath loved me so lovingly,
And I will love her as truly.

And as we twain have loved and do,
So be we fixed to love even still;
The law of love hath made us two
To work two willës in one will:
My Love will love me so lovingly,
And I will love her as truly.

Ye lovers all in present place
That long for love continual,

I loved thee once, I love thee still,
My heart is yet thine own;
Thou art its sole and rightful queen,
It is thy royal throne.

What though dark fate between us stands,
And clouds between us roll;
Not clouds, not even fate can stay
The flight of soul to soul.

No power upon the earth below,
Nor none in heaven above;
Time nor eternity can break
The golden chain of love.

And is the water come? sure 't cannot be;
It runs too much against philosophy:
For heavy bodies to the centre bend;
Light bodies only naturally ascend.
How comes this then to pass? The good knight's skill
Could nothing do without the water's will:
Then 'twas the water's love that made it flow;
For love will creep where well it cannot go.

Love planted a rose,
And the world turned sweet.
Where the wheat-field blows
Love planted a rose.
Up the mill-wheel's prose
Ran a music-beat.
Love planted a rose,
And the world turned sweet.

Father, I glory in the name of Son,
Born of Thy Life, the child of Perfect Love.
Grant that by all the world Thy will be done,
As by Thine angels in the heavens above!
Fed by Thy love from heaven from day to day
'T is in Thy name we go—in that we rest—
By Thee forgiven, Father, when we stray,
Strong in Thy strength and by Thy blessing blest.

Thine is the Kingdom and the glory Thine,
And Thine the Power, and what is Thine is mine.

The shuttles of the spirit ply
Swiftly between us two
Among the shining filaments that tie
My heart to you.

Threading the crimson woof they race,
Defying mould and moth,
To weave a gift for our most holy place,—
Love's altar cloth.

My loves are bronzes, crystals, porcelains,
Windows aglow like jewelled treasuries,
Hangings of florid, golden argosies,
And salvers brilliant with Venetian stains.
My loves are damosels of ancient reigns,
The old world's troubadour sweet harmonies,
The steed that bounds to Arabic caprice,
The German ballad with its tear refrains,

The ivory-carved piano-keys aflood,
The sounding horn within the forest glade,
The soft aroma from the censer fumed,
The couch of ivory, gold, and sandal-wood,

AH, HAPPY youths, ah, happy maid,
Snatch present pleasure while ye may;
Laugh, dance and sing in sunny glade,
Your limbs are light, your hearts are gay;
Ye little think there comes a day
('Twill come to you, it came to me)
When love and life shall pass away:
I, too, once dwelt in Arcady.

Or listless lie by yonder stream,
And muse and watch the ripples play,
Or note their noiseless flow, and deem
That life thus gently glides away—
That love is but a sunny ray
To make our years go smiling by.

Love once was like an April dawn:
—Song throbbed within the heart by rote,
And every tint of rose or fawn
—Was greeted by a joyous note.
——How eager was my thought to see
——Into that morning mystery!

Love now is like an August noon,
—No spot is empty of its shine;
The sun makes silence seem a boon,
—And not a voice so dumb as mine.
——Yet with what words I'd welcome thee—
——Couldst thou return, dear mystery!