love poems for her

The scarlet cheek is a most pleasing dye ,
For so much colour so much modesty ;
And if she'd innocence to give delight,
It forms a very beauteous red and white ;
More lovely than all painting can impart,
One takes the eye , but t'other gains the heart .

THE FOREGOING LINES PARAPHRASED

I.

Happy the man who, in thy sparkling eyes,
His am'rous wishes sees reflecting play;
Sees little laughing Cupids glancing rise,
And in soft-swimming languor die away.

II.

Still happier he to whom thy meanings roll
In sounds which Love, harmonious Love! inspire;
On his charm'd ear sits rapt his list'ning soul,
Till admiration form intense desire.

Who longs for music merely longs for Love.
For Love's music, and no minstrel needs
Save his own sigh to breathe upon the reeds
From heart too full, and — like the adoring dove
That cooes all day the darling nest above,
Content if hour to happy hour succeeds —
Nor morning's song, nor noon's rich silence, heeds,
Nor the old mysteries evening whispers of.

But when the voice is echoless, the hand
Long empty, then, O wedded harp and flute,
Remind us Love's eternal, not Time's toy.

If Fortune to thee treasures gave,
Each debt of mine thou'dst gladly pay,
And nothing for thyself would save
Nor deem thy bounty thrown away.

II

Cruel Eliza! would this ease
My burdens, or make me more free
When the wish only does increase
The debt of love I owe to thee?

Ah me! Take out of life the light of love —
And who would live that not deserved to die?
But while that boon is left us from above,
The soul finds heaven in one fair woman's eye.

My love's waitin',
Waitin' by the river,
Waitin' till I come along!
Wait there, child; I'm comin'.

Jay-bird tol' me,
Tol' me in the mornin',
Tol' me she'd be there tonight.
Wait there, child; I'm comin'.

Whip-po'-will tol' me,
Tol' me in the evenin',
" Down by the bend where the cat-tails grow. "
Wait there, child; I'm comin'.

I

A SK'ST thou " how long my love shall stay
When all that's new is past? "
How long? — Ah, Delia, can I say
How long my life will last?
Dry be that tear — be hush'd that sigh,
At least I'll love thee till I die.

II

And does that thought afflict thee too,
The thought of Damon's death?
That he who only lives for you,
Must yield his faithful breath?
Hush'd be that sigh — be dried that tear,

HEIGH-HO ! my thoughts are far away;
For wine or books I have no care;
I like to think upon the way
She has of looking very fair.
Oh, work is naught, and play is naught,
And all the livelong day is naught;
There's nothing much I care to learn
But what her lovely lips have taught.

The campus cannot tempt me out,
The classics cannot keep me in;
The only place I care about
Is where perchance she may have been.
Oh, work is naught, and play is naught,
And all the livelong day is naught;

IMITATED FROM THE FRENCH .

Lapt on Cythera's golden sands,
When first True Love was born on earth;
Long was the doubt what fost'ring hands
Should tend and rear the glorious birth.

First, Hebe claim'd the sweet employ:
Her cup, her thornless flowers, she said,
Would feed him best with health and joy,
And cradle best his cherub head.

But, anxious Venus justly fear'd
The tricks and changeful mind of youth,
Too mild the seraph Peace appear'd,
Too stern, too cold, the matron Truth.

ADDRESSED TO MR. BIGGS, ON HIS HAVING SET THE MAD-SONG ,
AND MY LOVE TO WAR IS GOING .

While from your taste my humble lays acquire
Attractive charms to them till now unknown,
My muse deceived exulting strikes her lyre,
And loves her strains for graces not their own.