love poetry

S WEET bloom, that 's ever in its prime,
Superior to the waste of Time,
Your privilege we all approve —
But wish the secret known to Love .

With insolent conceit of taste,
I swore on Briton Ferry's hill,
" No other charms my love should waste,
Enchantment there its cup should fill. "

But soon the Nymphs of Dinevawr
Around me danc'd with Beauty's chain,
Commenc'd the Rival's jealous war,
And bound me to their smiling reign.

Then Hafod's Muse entranc'd my love,
Secluded in her arms I lay,
Explor'd with her the pathless grove,

I AM no rustic beauty's friend,
The barn and stack my taste offend.
I own 'tis classical to keep
With shepherd's crook the lambs and sheep,
Or sing of Love to shepherdesses
With nut-brown hands and flowing tresses.
But upon fancy none agree,
And this employment suits not me.
Forgive it, ye poetic themes,
I have no taste for vocal streams,
That ring in one eternal chime
Monotony's dull note of Time;
The cawing rook delights not me,
The lowing herd, or humming bee:

HERE Emma , though her discipline was hard,
Was made immortal by a deathless Bard:
For, though her Love nor age nor scene can boast,
The Nine adopt, and personate the Ghost.

A Girl , on amorous follies bent,
From Oxford a Knight-errant went;
A Connoisseur in love-devices,
Though in her teens; — they call'd her Isis .
A Shepherd-youth, in mean attire,
Won the fair prize; and Fame's no liar.
Discretion frown'd; — but Nature smil'd,
And Miss grew thoroughly with child; —
The little Rake's adopted name
(For he had none at first) was Thame .
She took him with her on the journey,
Without a Parson or Attorney;

Light Courser! as the wing'd immortal steed
That Perseus bore, when for the naked charm
(That Love had promis'd the victorious arm)
He cleft the Monster — and the generous deed
Won Beauty's recompence! — or if the seed
Lives of Bucephalus , whose fierce alarm
Nor courage could oppose, nor skill disarm —
For him predestin'd, whom the Fates decreed
The World's commanding Spirit: — of that race,
But not so tam'd art thou — whose neck sublime,
And bounding feet, and flaming eye, display

Sweet looks! and gracious words! no more shall I
Your votary bend? — Ye golden tresses! bands
Of Love, whose chain my captive soul demands,
And leads me on, impatient of reply,
Till Death shall close the unavailing sigh! —
Celestial beauty, which these pious hands
Could ne'er propitiate, nor in distant lands
My heart could soften, or my verse could fly! —
Alluring smiles! — and Love's insidious hour
Of joy, that soothes me to betray, farewell!
No more I feel your vernal ray divine

When Love, who ruled as Admiral o'er
Has rosy mother's isles of light,
Was cruising off the Paphian shore,
A sail at sunset hove in sight.
" A chase, a chase! my Cupids all. "
Said Love, the little Admiral.

Aloft the winged sailors sprung,
And, swarming up the mast like bees,
The snow-white sails expanding flung,
Like broad magnolias to the breeze.
" Yo ho, yo ho, my Cupids all! "
Said Love, the little Admiral.

Ask not if still I love,
Too plain these eyes have told thee;
Too well their tears must prove
How near and dear I hold thee.
If, where the brightest shine,
To see no form but thine,
To feel that earth can show
No bliss above thee, —
If this be love, then know
That thus, that thus, I love thee.

'T is not in pleasure's idle hour
That thou canst know affection's power.
No, try its strength in grief or pain;
Attempt as now its bonds to sever,
Thou 'lt find true love 's a chain
That binds forever!

I give thee all — I can no more —
Tho' poor the offering be;
My heart and lute are all the store
That I can bring to thee.
A lute whose gentle song reveals
The soul of love full well;
And, better far, a heart that feels
Much more than lute could tell.

Tho' love and song may fail, alas!
To keep life's clouds away,
At least 't will make them lighter pass,
Or gild them if they stay.
And even if Care at moments flings
A discord o'er life's happy strain,
Let Love but gently touch the strings,