love poems

Oft did I hear our eyes the passage were
By which Love entered to assail our hearts;
Therefore I guarded them, and, void of fear,
Neglected the defence of other parts.
Love, knowing this, the usual way forsook,
And, seeking, found a by-way by mine Ear;
At which he ent'ring, my heart prisoner took,
And unto thee, sweet Philomel, did bear.
Yet let my heart thy heart to pity move,
Whose pain is great, although small fault appear:
First it lies bound in fett'ring chains of love,
Then each day it is racked with hope and fear;

TO AN IDEAL OBJECT .

Though far away, I still shall see thee here,
Shall see thy eyes so deep, thy modest mien,
And hear that fairy laughter, which yestreen
Fell like sweet music on my spell-bound ear.

Though far away, in truth thou dwell'st as near
As wert thou daily, hourly to be seen,
Nor of thy truthfulness have I a fear,
What is with thee stands fast and shows serene.

Would thou wert real, creature of my brain!
Thy voice and laughter, and those deep, still eyes,

I.

How sweet is our youth, when Love lights up each feature,
And sweet are the spring-birds that sing in each grove,
And sweet are the roses when blooming — but sweeter
The shamrock presented by hands that we love
Oh, bright's the plant at close of even,
When it is with smile approving,
By some blushing maiden given

Iltani has sent me a tiny rose,
Tinier than her little ear
Which is so small, so small
That I fear my great love can never,
Never all be poured into it!
Iltani has sent me a rose,
A little, little rose,
Yet so great has she made it seem to me
By the magic of her graciousness,
That it shuts out heaven and earth,
It shuts out everything to me
But the face of Iltani,
The lovely, lovely face of Iltani,
Which by the magic of her graciousness,
She has imprinted on the heart of the rose she sent me.

They told me, when I knew thee first,
Thou wert not made for loving,
That next St. Valentine's would see
Thy truant heart a-roving; —

That thou wouldst weary of my love,
Turn from me, and for ever!
That I would meekly bow and weep,
But chide the rover never.

Ah! those were mournful prophecies,
To cloud the sky of youth;
And thou and I, we little thought

TO F. W. C

Flowers pluckt upon a grave by moonlight, pale
And suffering, from the spiritual light
They grew in: these, with all the love and blessing.
That prayers can gain of God, I send to thee!

STREPHON .

L UCY , since the knot was tied,
Which confirmed thee Strephon's bride,
All is pleasure, all is joy,
Married love can never cloy;
Learn, ye rovers, learn from this,
Marriage is the road to bliss.

LUCY .

Whilst thy kindness every hour
Gathers pleasure with its power,
Love and tenderness in thee
Must be happiness to me.
Learn, ye rovers, learn from this,
Marriage is substantial bliss.

BOTH .

THE VICTORY OF DEATH

I am true to you, Beloved and only Love,
Even though others seem to snatch away
This wayward heart of mine, and every day
Finds me still seeking in each stranger's face
The face I loved, and if at times I trace
A chance resemblance, see your mouth or eyes
(Eyes coloured like the clearest April skies)
I love you again Beloved and only Love.

I am true to you, Beloved and only Love,
Though you have grown indifferent to me;
Since Death has led you where I cannot see

THE VICTORY OF LOVE

Beloved I come to tell you it is Spring!
The old brown earth puts forth pale buds again;
Pierced by the silver arrows of the rain
Her wounded breasts bleed blossoms, violets cling
Across your grave ... and how the wild birds sing!
Safe sheathed in sunshine is fate's sword of pain,
But Beauty beckons to my soul in vain,
Since you are dead what comfort can she bring?
Oh, Lover, I am striving to forget,
But your gay laughter haunts me, and I still
Hunger to hear your voice, that used to thrill

A DELE is gayly anecdotal of
The whims and eccentricities of friends.
" Don't think from what I've said, " her story ends.
" That Sue's not sweet! She is! A perfect love! "
Making a dove of Sue, she soils the dove,
Assumes attack and speciously defends,
Plants little lisping doubts and still pretends
She loves that girl all lovely girls above.

Behind Adele's white teeth her pretty tongue
Lies coiled to strike without a warning hiss:
She smiles upon the victim newest stung
And marks the next for poison with a kiss;