love poetry

Let us make love, let us make war,
This is your motto, boys, these are your courses;
War may appear to cost people too dear,
But love re-imburses, but love re-imburses.

The foe and the fair, let 'em see what we are,
For the good of the nation, the good of the nation;
What possible debtor can pay his debts better,
Than De -population with Re -population?

H ERE'S the place to seat us, love!
A perfect arbour! Look above,
How the delicate sprays, like hair,
Bend them to the breaths of air!
Listen, too! It is a rill,
Telling us its gentle will.
Who that knows what luxury is,
Could go by a place like this?

A female voice is heard, issuing forth softly and tenderly.

My widowed Love!

Recitative of another voice, a man's

Hark, princely mourner! 'tis the voice of her
You loved on earth, that with her favourite strings
Comes mingling thus, like smiling dreams that stir
The lips of day-sweet Patience. Hark! She sings!

The voice returns.

Look up, look up, and weep not so,
My Leopold! My love!
Thou touchest me with such a woe,
As should not be above.

I

K NEE-DEEP among the buttercups, the sun
Gilding the scutcheons and the gilded mail,
Gilding the crowned helm and leopard crest,
Dear, see they pant and strike at your desire.

And one goes down among the emerald grass,
And one stands over him his dagger poised,
His visor raised, his blood-shot eyes a-travel
Over the steel that lies between his feet,
Crushing the buttercups . . . and so the point goes in
Between the gorget and the habergeon . . .
And blood floods out upon the buttercups,

Ah, let my hand lie warm in thine, the hand that held the pen;
It shall not miss its once-loved task, nor long to work again.
And let me hide my weary eyes against thy sheltering breast;
Let others wear the bays I craved; I know that love is best!

Art's paths were over-sharp for me, and cold its mountain air;
For I am but a woman, dear, and Love's land is so fair!
So half-way up Fame's steep incline I pause and yield my place.
What! dare you ask if I regret? Bend close and read my face!

T ERROR'S and wrath's brave champion, Doctor Ban,
Scorning us holders to the loving plan,
Asks if we " take God for a gentleman?"

The scandal of the question match who can!
God's not, we own, to be defined by man;
But why must he resemble Doctor Ban?

Sweet evenings come and go, love,
They came and went of yore:
This evening of our life, love,
Shall go and come no more.

When we have passed away, love,
All things will keep their name;
But yet no life on earth, love,
With ours will be the same.

The daisies will be there, love,
The stars in heaven will shine:
I shall not feel thy wish, love,
Nor thou my hand in thine.

A better time will come, love,
And better souls be born:
I would not be the best, love,

Six hundred years ago, in Dante's time,
Before his cheek was furrowed by deep rhyme —
When Europe, fed afresh from Eastern story,
Was like a garden tangled with the glory
Of flowers hand-planted and of flowers air-sown,
Climbing and trailing, budding and full-blown,
Where purple bells are tossed amid pink stars,
And springing blades, green troops in innocent wars,
Crowd every shady spot of teeming earth,
Making invisible motion visible birth —
Six hundred years ago, Palermo town
Kept holiday. A deed of great renown,

I

In vain, dear Youth, you say you love,
And yet my Marks of Passion blame;
Since Jealousie alone can prove,
The surest Witness of my Flame:
And she who without that, a Love can vow,
Believe me, Shepherd , does not merit you.

II

Then give me leave to doubt, that Fire
I kindle, may another warm:
A Face that cannot move Desire,

My Amoret , since you must know,
The Grief you say my Eyes do show:
Survey my Heart, where you shall find,
More Love then for your self confin'd.
And though you chide, you'l Pity too,
A Passion which even Rivals you.

Amyntas on a Holy-day
As fine as any Lord of May ,
Amongst the Nimphs, and jolly Swaines,
That feed their Flocks upon the Plaines:
Met in a Grove beneath whose shade,
A Match of Dancing they had made.

His Cassock was of Green, as trim
As Grass upon a River brim;