love poetry

O L IFE'S ringing morn! O season divine!
What though thou art vanished, we shall not repine,
We yesterday loved, and to-day 'tis the same,
And to-morrow we'll love with unchangeable flame.

Once, a troop of wild Burschen, so frolic and gay,
We went to the village to welcome the May;
To each door came the maidens, all laughing, to see;
Then, darling, thou laughed, but in secret on me.

At the May-feast, thou gavest — O moment of bliss! —
Thy hand to my pressure, thy lip to my kiss;

Ah ! love ye one another well,
For the hour will come
When one of you is lying dumb;
Ye would give worlds then for a word,
That never may be heard;
Ye would give worlds then for a glance,
That may be yours by ne'er a chance;
Ah! love ye one another well!

For if ye wrung a tear,
Like molten iron it will sear;
The look that proved you were unkind
With hot remorse will be blind;
And though you pray to be forgiven,
How will ye know that ye are shriven?
Ah! love ye one another well!

COULD love impart,
By nicest art,
To speechless rocks a tongue, —
Their theme would be,
Beloved, of thee, —
Thy beauty, all their song.

And, clerklike, then,
With sweet amen,
Would echo from each hollow
Reply all day;
While gentle fay,
With merry whoop, would follow.

Had roses sense,
On no pretence
Would they their buds unroll;
For, could they speak,
'Twas from thy cheek

FIRST LOVER

Love that is spoken often dies,
Quick as the light in evening skies,
Or as a song upon the ear,
And leaves no answering spirit near:
Wilt thou be true? Shall I ne'er rue
My plighted faith? Wilt thou be true?

ECHO

Wilt thou be true?

SECOND LOVER

That doubt, O maiden, do not name!
Changeless as yon eternal flame
My spirit evermore shall be

I AM so desolate, —
Genius sighs —
Come, Love, and be my mate,
Give me thine eyes.

I am aweary,
Love, give me rest;
Leave me not dreary,
Give me thy breast.

The lark looks to heaven,
The flower to the sun;
But my heart is sore riven
For thy beauty, sweet one.

Give me thy presence,
My life to enfold;
Then care and sorrow hence,
That life shalt thou hold.

My life is but a study how to die.
Since there seems nought of worth in life on earth,
I'll school my spirit for eternity,
And study how from death to gain new birth.
I am in love with that which leads from hence
Because it points to all our minds desire,
When, rapt in contemplation, mortal sense,
And sin and error like a dream expire.
O heaven! the fountain-head of every grace,
Where wisdom, justice, beauty, power, and love
Have made their everlasting resting-place,
Teach now my better part to dwell above

The bloom hath fled thy cheek, Mary,
As spring's rath blossoms die,
And sadness hath o'ershadowed quite
Thy once bright eye;
But, look on me, the prints of grief
Still deeper lie.
Farewell!

Thy lips are pale and mute, Mary,
Thy step is sad and slow,
The morn of gladness hath gone by
Thou erst didst know;
I, too, am changed like thee, and weep
For very woe.
Farewell!

It seems as 'twere but yesterday
We were the happiest twain,
When murmured sighs and joyous tears,

Love o'er the rose-white alleys
That flower on pale desert sands,
Love through the rose-red valleys
That burgeon in southern lands,
In cities ashine with pleasure
On the edge of a sea-girt clime,
Or mountains whose dim caves treasure
The temples of moon-crowned time,
On errands of joy or duty.
Wherever the ways you tread,
A carpet of ageless beauty
Is my heart for your feet outspread.

Love, whether Life betray you
And the malice of black-winged Fate
Shatter your dream and slay you

She

Like a serpent to the calling voice of flutes,
Glides my heart into thy fingers, O my Love!
Where the night-wind, like a lover, leans above
His jasmine-gardens and sirisha -bowers;
And on ripe boughs of many-coloured fruits
Bright parrots cluster like vermilion flowers.

He

Like the perfume in the petals of a rose,
Hides thy heart within my bosom, O my love!
Like a garland, like a jewel, like a dove
That hangs its nest in the asoka -tree.
Lie still, O love, until the morning sows

1

Render hate to those who hate you,
Deeper rolls the stream of strife;
Render love and healing kindness,
Hatred dies and sweet is life!

2

Pious precepts, smooth-tongued preacher,
Never acted, wisely meant,
Are like gay and golden blossoms
Without fragrance, without scent!

3

Dost thou shrink from death and suffering,
Dost thou cling to life from birth?