love poetry

When Love and Beauty wander away,
And there's no more hearts to be sought and won,
When the old earth limps thro' the dreary day,
And the work of the Seasons cry undone:
Ah! what shall we do for a song to sing,
Who have known Beauty, and Love, and Spring?

When Love and Beauty wander away,
And a pale fear lies on the cheeks of youth,
When there's no more goal to strive for and pray,
And we live at the end of the world's untruth:
Ah! what shall we do for a heart to prove,
Who have known Beauty, and Spring, and Love?

A LONG comes Love,
In the semblance of a boy,
And he rings a little bell,
And he sings a little song:
Lo, the change thereof!
Heaven after hell,
Beauty healing wrong,
And grief turned joy!

At times, when, with an anguish all too keen,
The violin doth tensely tell of grief,
Tugging at heart-strings till the tale, I ween,
Is over-cruel, calls for some relief:
I joy to hear, like cooings of lost doves,
The grave viola plaining of old loves.

Castor and Pollux, tuneful Muse, now sing;
The offspring of the cloud-compelling king,
When on Taygetus' high-rising crest
The son of Saturn lovely Leda press'd.
Hail, ye Tyndaridae, well skill'd to train
The fiery courser for the' embattled plain.

A SONG OF LIFE

A SONG , boys, a song!
Life is young yet,
Love has tongue yet;
Why should Life and Love go wrong?
Come, boys, a song!

A song, boys, a song!
Life's at flush still,
Love's ablush still;
What though cares and curses throng?
Come, boys, a song!

A song, boys, a song!
Death is here soon,
Death will cheer soon,
Death is nigh, and Love is strong;
So, boys, a song!

Welcome , mine own!
Welcome, mine own! Wit and his company :

O lady dear,
Be ye so near
To be known?
My heart you cheer
Your voice to hear;
Welcome, mine own. Science and her Company :

As ye rejoice
To hear my voice
From me thus blown,
So in my choice
I show my voice
To be your own. Wit and his Company :

Then draw we near
To see and hear
My love long grown!

I MAKE apprizal of the maiden moon
For what she is to me:
Not a great globe of cheerless stone
That hangs in awful space alone,
And ever so to be;
But just the rarest orb,
The very fairest orb,
The star most lovely-wise
In all the dear night-skies!
So thou to me, O jestful girl of June!
I have no will to hear
Cold calculations of thy worth
Summed up in beauty, brain, and birth:
Such coldly strike mine ear.
Thou art the rarest one,
The very fairest one,
The soul most lovely-wise

When men inrich thy neck with praise,
And glories which no rose displays,
Thy arms which wax do imitate,
My gall impostum'd swels with hate:
I burn while sots thy skin defile,
And rosebuds in thy lips do spoil:
To leave love-marks, trust me in vain,
They love not, who dare lips prophane.
Ah be not prodigal of blisse!
Venus makes Nectar of a kisse.
Happy thrice, nay more, for ever:
Where loves chain is broken never;
Nor rash complaint, a linck can force,
While death sues forth a long divorce.

A CANTATA .

From the high mount, whence sacred groves depend,
Diana and her virgin-troop descend;
And while the buskin'd maids with active care,
The business of the daily chase prepare,
A favourite nymph steps forward from the throng,
And thus, exulting, swells the jocund song:

" Jolly Health springs aloft at the loud sounding horn,
Unlock'd from soft Slumber's embrace;
And Joy sings an hymn to salute the sweet morn,

Lice complain not if I fly,
Since fate forbids a Sympathy.
Could Infant spring and winter meet,
I'de covet Lices winding sheet;
And wed a monument with thee,
A parchment cloth'd Anatomie.
Whom ev'n but touch'd would ashes turn;
Nor cures your snow, if love ere burn;
Nor suppositions cold sweats free,
Where each touch prompts an Agonie.
Importunate love dry oakes oreflies,
To wanton in Euphormia's eyes;
But thine affrighted in are fled,
To seek where he lies buried:
Whom Stibium thence can never raise;