love poetry

I'm gonna love you
Like nobody's loved you,
Come rain or come shine.
High as a mountain
And deep as a river,
Come rain or come shine.
I guess when you met me
It was just one of those things,
But don't ever bet me,
'Cause I'm gonna be true if you let me.
You're gonna love me
Like nobody's loved me,
Come rain or come shine.
Happy together,
Unhappy together,
And won't it be fine?
Days may be cloudy or sunny,
We're in or we're out of the money,
But I'm with you always,

VERSE 1 SHE :

Straight from the heart department, dear,
I bring you a sweeping statement:
You seem to be the mate meant for me.
Why in the name of common sense
Were all of my young dreams wasted?
Never in one your face did I see.
If this is all a big surprise to you,
Me too!

REFRAIN

Why must love be such a random thing?
Unpredictable as early spring.
Why no choir praising the joy I was to find?
And why am I the one to be overwhelmed, undermined?

My bonny lass, thine eye,
So sly,
Hath made me sorrow so;
Thy crimson cheeks, my dear,
So clear,
Have so much wrought my woe;

Thy pleasing smiles and grace,
Thy face,
Have ravished so my sprites,
That life is grown to nought
Through thought
Of love, which me affrights.

For fancy's flames of fire
Aspire
Unto such furious power
As, but the tears I shed
Make dead
The brands, would me devour;

I should consume to nought
Through thought
Of thy fair shining eye,

I met at eve the Prince of Sleep,
His was a still and lovely face,
He wandered through a valley steep,
Lovely in a lonely place.

His garb was grey of lavender,
About his brows a poppy-wreath
Burned like dim coals, and everywhere
The air was sweeter for his breath.

His twilight feet no sandals wore,
His eyes shone faint in their own flame,
Fair moths that gloomed his steps before
Seemed letters of his lovely name.

His house is in the mountain ways,
A phantom house of misty walls,

A LOVE SECRET

Love has its secrets, joy has it revealings.
How shall I speak of that which love has hid?
If my beloved shall return to greet me,
Deeds shall be done for her none ever did.

My beloved loved me. How shall I reveal it?
We were alone that morning in the street.
She looked down at the ground, and blushed, and trembled.
She stopped me with her eyes when these did meet.

An Allegoric Romance

Like a lone Arab, old and blind,
Some caravan had left behind,
Who sits beside a ruin'd well,
Where the shy sand-asps bask and swell;
And now he hangs his aged head aslant,
And listens for a human sound — in vain!
And now the aid, which Heaven alone can grant,
Upturns his eyeless face from Heaven to gain; —
Even thus, in vacant mood, one sultry hour,
Resting my eye upon a drooping plant,

Love flies with bow unstrung when Time appears,
And trembles at the approach of heavy years.
A few bright feathers leaves he in his flight,
Quite beyond call, but not forgotten quite.

VOL. 2, C ANTIQUE 135

Love ! if thy destin'd sacrifice am I,
Come, slay thy victim, and prepare thy fires;
Plung'd in thy depths of mercy, let me die
The death, which every soul that lives desires!

I watch my hours, and see them fleet away;
The time is long, that I have languish'd here;
Yet all my thoughts thy purposes obey,
With no reluctance, cheerful and sincere.

I paintedrouge on my lips,
and kissed the trunk of a new birch,
even if I were a handsome man,
on my chest are no breasts likerubber balls,
from my skin rises no fragrance of finetexturedpowder,
I am a wizened man of ill fate,
ah, what a pitiable man,
in today's balmy early summer field,
in a stand of glistening trees,
I slipped on my hands sky blue gloves,
put around my waist something like acorset,
smeared on my nape something like nape powder,
thus hushed assuming a coquettishpose,
as young girls do,

"Love me, for I love you"--and answer me,
"Love me, for I love you": so shall we stand
As happy equals in the flowering land
Of love, that knows not a dividing sea.
Love builds the house on rock and not on sand,
Love laughs what while the winds rave desperately;
And who hath found love's citadel unmanned?
And who hath held in bonds love's liberty?--
My heart's a coward though my words are brave--
We meet so seldom, yet we surely part
So often; there's a problem for your art!
Still I find comfort in his Book who saith,