love poems for her

1

She is all sweetness. Her long fingers seem
Pencils of silver, and so beautiful
Her presence, that she breathes of heaven and love.

2

Rudabeh smil'd; and all the scene was love.
Gracious their clasping hands together twine,
By love inflam'd, devoted to his shrine.
Now they descend, and to the palace move,
Attended by the slave who knew their love.
The gay illuminations gild the scene;
All was elysium, splendid, yet serene!
Zal more amaz'd, all glowing with desire,

G AZEL

He who poverty electeth, hall and fane desireth not;
Than the food of woe aught other bread to gain desireth not.
He who, king-like, on the throne of blest contentment sits aloft,
O'er the Seven Climes as Sultan high to reign desireth not.
He, who in his bosom strikes his nails, and opes the wound afresh,
On the garden looks not, sight of rosy lane desireth not.
He, who is of Love's true subjects, bideth in the fair one's ward,
Wand'ring there distracted, mountain lone or plain desireth not.

LOVE ILL-REQUITED .

Such love as woman never won
Was, Lesbia! mine for thee;
Such truth as never league had known
Thy love had found in me!

My heart, by falseness now repelled,
Yet vain with passion strives;
Turn honest, yet esteem were killed,
Be vile, yet love survives!

O wanderer heart! avoid that haunted grove,
The body of thy love;
Nor in her bosom stray, wild mountain fells
Where Love, the robber, dwells.

The landscape which the poet loves
is that of early May,
When budding greenness half concealed
enwraps each willow spray.
That beautiful embroidery
the days of summer yield,
Appeals to every bumpkin
who takes his walk afield.

THE LAST AGONY .

I love and hate. Ah, never ask why so!
I hate and love — and that is all I know.
I see 't is folly, but I feel 't is woe!

LIVE AND LOVE .

We'll live and love, my Lesbia, thou and I,
Not caring one brass-farthing (currency),
If aged scandal-mongers spread a tale,
Or if the strait-laced Puritans say " Fie! "
" The sun dies, " yes! to rise in death's despite;
But thou and I, when once the little light
Of our two lives is set, must sleep alway
The eternal sleep of one eternal night.

At lovely Yoshino
The mountain cherries here and there
Have begun to show.

The hat you loved, the damask trimmed reed-hat
Has fallen, fallen!
Into Kamo River, into the middle of the river.
And while I searched and while I sought
Day dawned, day dawned.
Oh, the rustling, rustling of that autumn night by the pools!

This is the dust of Timas, whom Persephone's dark chamber received, dead before her wedding; when she perished, all her fellows dressed with sharponed steel the lovely tresses of their heads .