love poetry

And if the rope
does not reach
down
far enough
into my heart,
who will fathom
the thoughts
at the bottom

A rowed-in boat,
run
aground
on a sandspit,
oarless
and alone —
like me,
weakened
by the blows
of the buffeting

Unforgettable
is the image
that from my eyes
descends in tears —
showering onto
my sleeves
with moonlight
at break of day.

It started to burn,
but the firewood
of my passion
has rotted through.
Now I wait
in the dying dusk
for the smoke

How I envy them!
For it is not smoke
rising
from
fires of passion
that surrounds
those villagers
meeting
at break of day.

An old carriage
with its legs near to collapse
stops for a rest —
worn out from traveling far
on
the way

Where the bridge out at Woodley did stride,
Wi' his wide arches' cool sheäded bow,
Up above the clear brook that did slide
By the popples, befoam'd white as snow:
As the gilcups did quiver among
The white deäisies, a-spread in a sheet.
There a quick-trippen maid come along, —
Aye, a girl wi' her light-steppen veet.

An' she cried " I do praÿè, is the road
Out to Lincham on here, by the meäd? "
An' " oh! ees, " I meäde answer, an' show'd
Her the way it would turn an' would leäd:

When I gaze at it
these days,
lost in thoughts of love,
how deeply the moon's hue
seems dyed in sorrow

Does this love of mine
face one way only,
never perversely straying?
Rather it is the lemon grass in the meadow,
tossed in ever-shifting winds

" WHEN LOVE CAME FIRST "

When Love came first to Earth, the Spring
Spread rosebeds to receive him;
And back he vowed his flight he'd wing
To Heaven, if she should leave him.

But Spring departing saw his faith
Pledged to the next new comer —
He revelled in the warmer breath
And richer bowers of Summer.

Then sportive Autumn claimed by rights