romantic poems

In that world we weary to attain,
Love's furled banner floats at large unfurled:
There is no more doubt and no more pain
In that world.

There are gems and gold and inlets pearled;
There the verdure fadeth not again;
There no clinging tendrils droop uncurled.

Here incessant tides stir up the main,
Stormy miry depths aloft are hurled:
There is no more sea, or storm, or stain,
In that world.

Love, to be love, must walk Thy way
And work Thy Will;
Or if Thou say, " Lie still, "
Lie still and pray.

Love, Thine own Bride, with all her might
Will follow Thee,
And till the shadows flee
Keep Thee in sight.

Love will not mar her peaceful face
With cares undue,
Faithless and hopeless too
And out of place.

Love, knowing Thou much more art Love,
Will sun her grief,
And pluck her myrtle-leaf,
And be Thy dove.

Love here hath vast beatitude:

What is the beginning? Love. What the course? Love still.
What the goal? The goal is Love on the happy hill.
Is there nothing then but Love, search we sky or earth?
There is nothing out of Love hath perpetual worth:
All things flag but only Love, all things fail or flee;
There is nothing left but Love worthy you and me.

Patience must dwell with Love, for Love and Sorrow
Have pitched their tent together here:
Love all alone will build a house tomorrow,
And sorrow not be near.

Today for Love's sake hope, still hope, in sorrow,
Rest in her shade and hold her dear:
Today she nurses thee; and lo! tomorrow
Love only will be near.

Lord, give me love that I may love Thee much,
Yea, give me love that I may love Thee more,
And all for love may worship and adore
And touch Thee with love's consecrated touch.
I halt today; be love my cheerful crutch,
My feet to plod, some day my wings to soar:
Some day; but, Lord, not any day before
Thou call me perfect, having made me such.
This is a day of love, a day of sorrow,
Love tempering sorrow to a sort of bliss;
A day that shortens while we call it long:
A longer day of love will dawn tomorrow,

Once slain for Him Who first was slain for them,
Now made alive in Him for evermore,
All luminous and lovely in their gore
With no more buffeting winds or tides to stem
The Martyrs look for New Jerusalem;
And cry " How long? " remembering all they bore,
" How long? " with heart and eyes sent on before
Toward consummated throne and diadem.
" How long? " White robes are given to their desire;
" How long? " deep rest that is and is to be;
With a great promise of the oncoming host,

Unspotted lambs to follow the one Lamb,
Unspotted doves to wait on the one Dove;
To whom Love saith, “Be with Me where I am,”
And lo! their answer unto Love is love.

For tho' I know not any note they know,
Nor know one word of all their song above,
I know Love speaks to them, and even so
I know the answer unto Love is love.

Tumult and turmoil, trouble and toil,
Yet peace withal in a painful heart;
Never a grudge and never a broil,
And ever the better part.

O my King and my heart's own choice,
Stretch Thy Hand to Thy fluttering dove;
Teach me, call to me with Thy Voice,
Wrap me up in Thy Love.

Me and my gift: kind Lord, behold,
Be not extreme to test or sift;
Thy Love can turn to fire and gold
Me and my gift.

Myself and mine to Thee I lift:
Gather us to Thee from the cold
Dead outer world where dead things drift.

If much were mine, then manifold
Should be the offering of my thrift:
I am but poor, yet love makes bold
Me and my gift.

Lord God of Hosts, most Holy and most High,
What made Thee tell Thy Name of Love to me?
What made Thee live our life? what made Thee die?
" My love of thee. "

I pitched so low, Thou so exceeding high,
What was it made Thee stoop to look at me
While flawless sons of God stood wondering by?
" My love of thee. "

What is there which can lift me up on high
That we may dwell together, Thou with me,
When sin and death and suffering are gone by?
" My love of thee. "