romantic poems

" I saw you, Love, from the sheepfield that is white
With mushrooms and you like an apple bough
Blossoming by the stonewall in the bright
Early sunshine."
" It is misting now."

" The rainy seawind's gone. It will be fine.
Look! there's not any cloud but on the brow
Of Beann Gulbain. They'll climb there to-day,
And search the ancient forest of black pine
Where the night is mildewed, for the dead
Body — "
" O you are wet!"
— " The stepping-stones

Happy bridegroom, Hesper brings
All desired and timely things.
All whom morning sends to roam,
Hesper loves to lead them home.
Home return who him behold,
Child to mother, sheep to fold,
Bird to nest from wandering wide:
Happy bridegroom, seek your bride.

O! Love! how cold, and slow to take my part!
Thou idle Wanderer, about my Heart;
Why thy old faithfull Souldier wilt thou see
Opprest in thine own Tents? They Murder me:
Thy flames consume, thy Arrows pierce thy Friends,
Rather on Foes pursue more Noble ends.
Achilles Sword wou'd generously bestow
A cure as certaine, as it gave the blow.
Hunters, who follow flying Game, give o're
When the Prey's caught, hope still leads on before.
Wee thy owne Slaves feele thy Tyrannick blows,
While thy tame hand's unmov'd against thy Foes.

The brothers rebelled against one another:
But in their heart they were friendly.
Despite their crimes
Their ties remained firm.

If brothers are split,
A villain will enter and sow discord.
Remember, my Lord,
His sagacity and love.

Seeing the bodies lying in heaps,
He abandoned food and sleep.
Moved by love for his people,
He labored assiduously.

If you are unaware of people's sorrow,
Heaven will abandon you.
Remember, my Lord,
His labor of love.

Because he loved men and sought their welfare,
He overawed
The fierce rebels
And caught them alive.

When you have men at your beck and call,
When you punish men and sentence men,
Remember, my Lord,
His mercy and temperance.

Though he was busy with war,
He loved the way of the scholar.
His work of achieving peace
Shone brilliantly.

Happy is he, that with fix'd Eyes
The Fountain of all goodness spies!
Happy is he, that can break through
Those Bonds, which tie him here below!
The Thracian poet long ago
Kind Orpheus , full of tears and wo
Did for his lov'd Euridice
In such sad Numbers mourn, that he
Made the Trees run in to his mone,
And Streams stand still to hear him grone.
The Does came fearless in one throng
With Lyons to his mournful Song,
And charm'd by the harmonious sound
The Hare stay'd by the quiet Hound .

Faint and more faint amid the world of dreams,
That which was once my all, thy image, seems
Pale as a star that in the morning gleams.

Long time that sweet face was my guiding star,
Bringing me visions of the fair and far,
Remote from this world's toil and this world's jar.

Around it was an atmosphere of light,
Deep with the tranquil loveliness of night,
Subdued and shadowy, yet serenely bright.

Like to a spirit did it dwell apart,
Hushed in the sweetest silence of my heart,

Here Cupid tempers his unerring darts,
And in the fount of bliss delights to play;
Here mingles balmy sighs and pleasing smarts,
And here the honeyed draught will oft allay
With that black poison's all-polluting sway,
For wretched man. Hither, as Venus willed,
For Psyche's punishment he bent his way;
From either stream his amber vase he filled —
For her were meant the drops which grief alone distilled.

His quiver, sparkling bright with gems and gold,
From his fair plumed shoulder graceful hung,