love poems for her

Love is the ocean, when it swells
And flows upon the land,
Caressing with its waves and shells
The dull forsaken strand.

Love is the carol of the bird,
The light of summer's sun,
The calm of twilight softly stirred
By symphonies of home.

Love is the sweetest scent of flower,
The ripest taste of fruit,
The soft-descending vernal shower,
That laves the tender shoot.

Love is the brightly glistening tear
Of heart that, joyous, weeps;
An angel-form, that hovers near

When, Dearest, I but think on thee,
Methinks all things that lovely be
Are present, and my soul delighted:
For beauties that from worth arise,
Are like the grace of Deities,
Still present with us, though unsighted.

Thus while I sit and sigh the day,
With all his spreading lights away,
Till nights black wings do overtake me:
Thinking on thee, thy beauties then,
As sudden lights do sleeping men,
So they by their bright rayes awake me.

Thus absence dyes, and dying proves

Taken with Love of Adriana His misfortune thus He bewailes

O cruell Nimph fayre Adriana, how
Dos't stil Thy Ears stop to my praiers and vowe?
Thou art soe many wayes by Venus grac't
Soe many Cupids Mustring in Thee plac't
As that noe Lillies can more white disclose
Nor fresher Tincture bears the blushing Rose
Than thy cheekes wear: it may be Thou art Coye
For this, Least too much bewty should destroy
Soe wear'st a Vale; the Sun too takes delight
To mask in Clowds some times, t'appeer more bright

Veritas Odium parit — Horace

Since Truth breeds Hate Thou must not tak't amiss
I love Thee Nol: in whom soe little is
For should I say I hate Thee, that revers't
Might get more Truth than's fit to be reherst
But whither I Thee love or Hate, 'tis true
Thy Cake is Dowe and soe thou mayst goe Brew
For having pleasd all states alike They cry
Thou art a Villain; that's noe flattery
But, what they think, Fayth cousen them and fling
Away thy weapons huisher in the King.

Loves Negative

Noe tis not beauty must Confine
Loves Votaries to venus shrine
Nor any specious good
Of flesh and blood
The fairest then would only know
The benefitt of Cupid's bow
And Natures Courser Clay
Is Throne away.

Noe tis not soules divinly joynd
In sweetest hermony of mind
Nor sympathy of hartes
That love imparts

Robin for Poesy to a wedding ring hath Cupio or I desire

Surely the God of love did him inspire
With a Conceipt that must not be said noe
Whilst that but symbol was o'th't'other thing
Wishes as thoughts are free
Let O be Alpha and Omega P.

La resverie or Loves Winter Seege

The Martiall Swed, with Lap, and Finland joyne
To break the ice, and winter on the Rhine
Which Season ne're was wont
T'receive such an Affront
But when it's single Couler't did display
All quitt the Field and run away
The Drum could beat
Nothing save a retreat

Oh , when the day of passion's fled,
And softly by life's gliding river
We gather flowers to grace our dead,
From all but mem'ry gone for ever,
The fairest wreaths I'll daily twine
Of every tender leaf and blossom
To lay upon the hidden shrine,
Still sacred to thee in my bosom.

Though life's bright noon hath passed away,
With all its tales of love unspoken,
My beauteous rosebud, 'neath its ray,
Untimely fallen, crushed, and broken,
I'll keep its seared and withered leaves,

BY P OSEIDON

I LOVED Medusa when she was a child,
Her rich brown tresses heaped in crispy curl
Where now those locks with reptile passion whirl,
By hate into dishevelled serpents coiled.
I loved Medusa when her eyes were mild,
Whose glances, narrowed now, perdition hurl,
As her self-tangled hairs their mass unfurl,
Bristling the way she turns with hissings wild.

Shall I love again, and try
If I still must love to lose,
And make weak mortality
Give new birth unto my woes?
No, let me ever live from Love's enclosing,
Rather than love to live in fear of losing.

One whom hasty Nature gives
To the world without his sight,
Not so discontented lives,
As a man depriv'd of light:
'Tis knowledge that gives vigour to our woe,
And not the want, but loss that pains us so.

With the Arabian bird then be
Both the lover and belov'd;
Be thy lines thy progeny