love poetry

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

I.

M E the loveliest truest Swain,
Often woo's, but woo's in vain;
Tender, soft, beseeching Eyes,
Pleading Tears, and melting Sighs:
Such soft Pains as Lovers feel,
Such his dying Looks reveal.

II.

Yet by Pride, by Shame with-held,
Every yielding Thought's repell'd:
Scarce the Sigh that heaves my Breast,
Scarce the falling Tear's represt:
Yet may artful Tongue denies
My Love, and contradicts my Eyes.

III.

If then, charming Youth, you'd know
All my Love, and all my Woe;

I stand upon the sea-washed strand
And watch the closing day, love,
Where oft we loitered hand in hand
Before you went away, love.

The waters ripple at my feet,
They dart up creek and bay, love,
And dimly dimple cold and sweet,
But you are far away, love.

The home-bound boats, with rounded sails,
Dance o'er the dancing spray, love,
The merry zephyr flouts and fails,

Do you forget the joyous time
When summer woods were green and palmy?
When we were in our youthful prime,
And summer days were bright and balmy?
Then wandering through the wooded ways,
Or couched among the purple heather,
Screened from the sun's refulgent rays,
We sang our merry songs together.

Glad was the time: no carking care
Had ever cast a shadow o'er us;
The path we trod was bright and fair,
And life lay bright and fair before us.
So, hand in hand, we journeyed on