love poetry

No man may mount upon a golden stair,
Guido my master, to Love's palace-sill:
No key of gold will fit the lock that 's there,
Nor heart there enter without pure goodwill.
Not if he miss one courteous duty, dare
A lover hope he should his love fulfil;
But to his lady must make meek repair,
Reaping with husbandry her favours still.
And thou but know'st of Love (I think) his name:
Youth holds thy reason in extremities:
Only on thine own face thou turn'st thine eyes;
Fairer than Absalom's account'st the same;

Unto that lowly lovely maid, I wis,
So poignant in the heart was thy salute,
That she changed countenance, remaining mute.
Wherefore I asked: " Pinella, how is this?
Hast heard of Guido? know'st thou who he is?"
She answered, " Yea;" then paused, irresolute;
But I saw well how the love-wounds acute
Were widened, and the star which Love calls his
Filled her with gentle brightness perfectly.
" But, friend, an't please thee, I would have it told,"
She said, " how I am known to him through thee.

F AIR sir, this love of ours,
In joy begun so well,
I see at length to fail upon thy part:
Wherefore my heart sinks very heavily.
Fair sir, this love of ours
Began with amorous longing, well I ween:
Yea, of one mind, yea, of one heart and will

As in the cool-air'd road I come by,
--in the night,
Under the moon-clim'd height o' the sky,
--in the night,
There by the lime's broad lim's I did staÿè,
While in the air dark sheädes wer at plaÿè
Up on the window-glass, that did keep
Lew vrom the wind my true love asleep,
--in the night.

While in the grey-wall'd height o' the tow'r,
--in the night,
Sounded the midnight bell wi' the hour,
--in the night,
There come a bright-heäir'd angel that shed
Light vrom her white robe's zilvery thread,

He loved the brook's soft sound,
The swallow swimming by.
He loved the daisy-covered ground,
The cloud-bedappled sky.
To him the dismal storm appeared
The very voice of God;
And when the evening rack was reared
Stood Moses with his rod.
And everything his eyes surveyed,
The insects in the brake,
Were creatures God Almighty made,
He loved them for His sake--
A silent man in life's affairs,
A thinker from a boy,
A peasant in his daily cares,
A poet in his joy.

Can I not come to Thee, my God, for these
So very-many-meeting hindrances,
That slack my pace; but yet not make me stay?
Who slowly goes, rids (in the end) his way.
Cleere Thou my paths, or shorten Thou my miles,
Remove the barrs, or lift me o're the stiles:
Since rough the way is, help me when I call,
And take me up; or els prevent the fall.
I kenn my home; and it affords some ease,
To see far off the smoaking Villages.
Fain would I rest; yet covet not to die,
For feare of future-biting penurie:

Heart to heart!
And the stillness of night and the moonlight, like hushed breathing
Silently, stealthily moving across thy hair!

O womanly face!
Tender and strong and lucent with infinite feeling,
Shrinking with startled joy, like wind-struck water,
And yet so frank, so unashamed of love!

Ay, for there it is, love — that's the deepest.
Love's not love in the dark.
Light loves wither i' the sun, but Love endureth,
Clothing himself with the light as with a robe.

I would bare my soul to thy sight —

HIS ELECTION OF MY LADY A. W. FOR HIS MISTRESS .

I

H EAR this, and tremble, all
Usurping Beauties, that create
A government tyrannical,
In Love's free state!
Justice hath to the sword of your edged eyes
His equal balance join'd; his sage head lies
In Love's soft lap, which must be just and wise,

II.

He loved her, having felt his love begin
With that first look, — as lover oft avers.
He made pale flowers his pleading ministers,
Impressed sweet music, drew the springtime in
To serve his suit; but when he could not win,
Forgot her face and those gray eyes of hers;
And at her name his pulse no longer stirs,
And life goes on as though she had not been.
She never loved him; but she loved Love so,
So reverenced Love, that all her being shook
At his demand whose entrance she denied.
Her thoughts of him such tender color took

Having interr'd her Infant-birth,
The watry ground that late did mourn,
Was strew'd with flow'rs for the return
Of the wish'd Bridegroom of the earth.

The well accorded Birds did sing
Their hymns unto the pleasant time,
And in a sweet consorted chime
Did welcom in the chearful Spring.

To which, soft whistles of the Wind,
And warbling murmurs of a Brook,
And vari'd notes of leaves that shook,
An harmony of parts did bind.

While doubling joy unto each other,
All in so rare concent was shown,