poems about love

[HE] I have a song to sing, O!
[SHE] Sing me your song, O!
[HE] It is sung to the moon
By a love-lorn loon,
Who fled from the mocking throng, O!
It's the song of a merryman, moping mum,
Whose soul was sad, whose glance was glum,
Who sipped no sup, and who craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye.
Heighdy! heighdy!
Misery me—lackadaydee!
He sipped no sup, and he craved no crumb,
As he sighed for the love of a ladye!

[SHE] I have a song to sing, O!
[HE] Sing me your song, O!

I THOUGHT our love at full, but I did err;
Joy's wreath drooped o'er mine eyes; I could not see
That sorrow in our happy world must be
Love's deepest spokesman and interpreter:
But, as a mother feels her child first stir
Under her heart, so felt I instantly
Deep in my soul another bond to thee
Thrill with that life we saw depart from her;
O mother of our angel child! twice dear!
Death knits as well as parts, and still, I wis,
Her tender radiance shall infold us here,
Even as the light, borne up by inward bliss,

From lands where Love for ever dreams
?Thy soft eyes took their light;
No moon with quite such magic gleams,
?Nor any star by night.
There is a light that from the soul
?Flows forth, and that is thine;
The only light that can control
?So wild a heart as mine!
Thou bindest all my heart in chains,
?Sweet chains, as sweet as strong;
Love sometimes for one moment reigns,
?But thou hast reigned so long!
In truth I now begin to see
?That we shall never part,
But that God's vast eternity
?Will link us, heart to heart.

Gifts of one who loved me,—
'T was high time they came;
When he ceased to love me,
Time they stopped for shame.

This is my letter to the world,
That never wrote to me,—
The simple news that Nature told,
With tender majesty.

Her message is committed
To hands I cannot see;
For love of her, sweet countrymen,
judge tenderly of me!

“Come where my love lies dreaming,”
That song our parents enjoyed.
But now, her bright eyes beaming,
My love reads Old Doc Freud.


Last night as I lay on my pillow,
Last night as I lay in my bed—
Last night as I lay on my pillow,
I dreamed of Alonzo and Fred.


I dreamt that I dwelt in marble halls,
With Herbert and Al by my side;
I dreamed I was passing Niagara Falls
And I was a joyous young bride.
I dreamed of a tree and a ship and a fire,
And a garden with ten high walls;

Their names are unknown, but these herbs—
All of them have lovely flowers.

Love is honest farming.
It is planting in the deepest place,
and only on the very last day

Love's half moon
in the winter sky,
half shadow, half light
frozen to a crystal.

Rather than deserting someone,
let me be left by someone.
When two people love,
let me be first