love poem

When I meet you, I greet you with a stare;
Like a poor shy child at a fair.
I will not let you love me — yet am I weak.
I love you so intensely that I cannot speak.
When you are gone, I stand apart,
And whisper to your image in my heart.

I wish no more that beauty walked in light,
Utterly naked to the daily sight.
O rather let some simple dress
Shelter my Woman's loveliness.
So is her beauty love's high prize,
Which I discover with adoring eyes.

Two gifts I gave you, Love and Sorrow,
Of which the last is best,
But O, my Dear! 'Twas bitter giving,
Come here to me and rest.

What victory shall your world deny you,
Now you have wept?
All peace of love I will restore you
When you have slept.

I would carry you in my arms,
My strong One,
As if you were a child;
Over the long grass plains by the sea,
Where dunes are piled.

In the grey light of day that is late
Against wind from the sea I would carry your weight,
Till my body faint, but for love's control,
My soul will not faint to carry your soul.

I, who so weak had fallen to Hell,
Carry my load, and my Love's load well.
Old Sea, let us be steadfast!
New Hills, give us hope of change!
Wind from the sea, cleanse us!

If modest merit ever claim'd thy tear,
Behold this monument, and shed it here:
Here every blooming virtue beam'd in one,
The friend, the lover, and the duteous son.
Bless'd youth! whose bosom Nature form'd to glow
With purest flame the heart of man can know,
Go, where bright angels heavenly raptures prove,
And melt in visions of seraphic love.

How can I reach you? Though I hold you close the essential you escapes me; I cannot pierce to the core of your being .
Though I have given you all myself, what have I gained? Only my own happiness, not yours — so much more precious. Can I be glad seeing the life-weariness in your eyes?
What do you seek from me? Oblivion? Ask it of death, not of me. Happiness? I can only give you happiness if your love is great enough to create it .
To be loved is nothing; to receive is nothing. If you seek happiness, love and give .

They are not all sweet nightingales
That fill with songs the flowery vales;
But they are little silver bells,
Touched by the winds in the smiling dells;
Magic bells of gold in the grove,
Forming a chorus for her I love.

Think not the voices in the air
Are from the winged Sirens fair,
Playing among the dewy trees
Chanting their morning mysteries;
Oh! if you listen, delighted there,
To their music scattered o'er the dales,
They are not all sweet nightingales , etc.

Oh! 'twas a lovely song — of art

He who is both brave and bold
Wins the lady that he would;
But the courageless and cold
Never did and never could.

Modesty in women's game
Is a wide and shielding veil;
They are tutored to conceal
Passion's fiercely burning flame.
He who serves them brave and bold,
He alone is understood;
But the courageless and cold
Ne'er could win and never should.

If you love a lady bright,
Seek, and you shall find a way;
All that love would say — to say,
If you watch the occasion right,

May Love call the Muses, and the Muses bring Love; and may the Muses ever give me song at my desire, dear melodious song, the sweetest physic in the world.

Happy are lovers when their love is requited. Theseus, for all he found Hades at the last implacable, was happy because Perithoüs went with him; and happy Orestes among the cruel Inhospitables, because Pylades had chosen to share his wanderings; happy also lived Achilles Aeacid while his dear comrade was alive, and died happy, seeing he so avenged his dreadful fate.