romantic poems

Love is the key of life and death,
Of hidden heavenly mystery:
Of all Christ is, of all He saith,
Love is the key.

As three times to His Saint He saith,
He saith to me, He saith to thee,
Breathing His Grace-conferring Breath:
“Lovest thou Me?”

Ah, Lord, I have such feeble faith,
Such feeble hope to comfort me:
But love it is, is strong as death,
And I love Thee.

Love is alone the worthy law of love:
All other laws have presupposed a taint:
Love is the law from kindled saint to saint,
From lamb to lamb, from dove to answering dove.
Love is the motive of all things that move
Harmonious by free will without constraint:
Love learns and teaches: love shall man acquaint
With all he lacks, which all his lack is love.
Because Love is the fountain, I discern
The stream as love: for what but love should flow
From fountain Love? not bitter from the sweet!
I ignorant, have I laid claim to know?

Said Winter to the Rose:
“When first my cold breath blows,
Your gentle reign is done.”
But said the Rose quite fearless:
“New splendid buds and peerless
Are waiting for the sun.”

Said Winter to my love:
“With fur and muff and glove
Guard thou thyself, or die.”
But said my love: “What folly!
Though flowers be dead, the holly
Is bright against the sky.”

Said Winter unto me:
“Take heed, arise and flee;
Thy strength is spent. Beware!”
Said I: “My love is near me;
Her bright eyes soothe and cheer me;

Saadi loved the new & old
The near & far the town & wold
Him when Genius urged to roam
Stronger Custom brot him home

Farewell to love and all I see
In these dull English skies
For all the world turns round wi' me
Lost in thy two bright eyes

So fare-thee-well—a lover lost
I go where none can blame
And dearly shall I rue the cost
And scarcely keep a name

The little flowers and wild birds song
I leave them far away
In other lands and other tongues
A lonely bard to stray

In other lands I'll think of thee
Nor mortal love adore
The north star must its temple be
Where nought can change no more

The evening is for love As the morning is for toil
Though the fire is from above The pot is got to boil
A hard days work is mine And I'll live wi' care no more
So I'll see dew come to the woodbine at Isabella's door

Wi' hairy leaves and dro[o]ping flowers The canterberry bell
Grows underneath [the] hazle bower By most folks favoured well
Up the bean stalks creeps the snail The moth sleeps down below
The grey mist creep[s] along And I'll a courting go

I'll gang and Isabella see Nor more i'love repine

Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.

Save only that faith and reason I've lost, belovéd one,
I prithee, come say, what profit From love of thee I've won.

Though grief to the wind hath given The harvest of my life,
By the dust of thy foot, I've never The pact of love fordone!

Though abject I was as the sun-mote, By Love's fair auspice, see,
For wish of thy cheek I've raised me Up even to the sun.

Bring wine, for 'tis now a lifetime That, for salvation's sake,
I sit in the nook of safety And ease and pleasance shun.

Making love to a temple boy
on top of a horse.

At a mountain temple
they use a chess board

CCXXIX

I am ready and ever will be
To do you service with honesty.
There is nothing that lacks in me
But that I have not.

My poor heart always and my mind
Fixed in yours you shall still find.
To love you best reason doth bind
Although I have not.

And for your sake I would be glad
To have much more than I have had,
The lack whereof doth make me sad
Because I have not.

For I do love ye faithfully
And ye me again right secretly.
Of let there is no cause why