love poetry

My friends, I love your fame; I joy to raise
The high toned anthem of my country's praise;
To sing her victories, virtues, wisdom, weal,
Boast with loud voice the patriot pride I feel;
Warm wild I sing; and, to her failings blind,
Mislead myself, perhaps mislead mankind.
Land that I love! is this the whole we owe?
Thy pride to pamper, thy fair face to show;
Dwells there no blemish where such glories shine?
And lurks no spot in that bright sun of thine?
Hark! a dread voice, with heaven-astounding strain,

That wild free song which will not wear a fetter,
Such as was mastered well by loving Shelley
(Pure poet, down-ridden in the world's hot mêlee ),
Or such as Shakespeare uttered, careless setter
In Orient gold of perfect amethysts,
Whom men must marvel at, while the great world exists.

We are led forth amid the mystic moan
Of music sad with love unutterable
To ascend the wide slow stair of carven stone,
So wide a troop of mounted knights were able
To climb it easily. When the door is thrown
Open, I see clad in a cloak of sable
A skeleton form with lurid light above,
Who says, " I am the Lover of thy Love ."

Now with the sound of that great knight's slow saying
I seem to pass back many centuries.
It is another world I am surveying
Than this of comforts and philosophies:
There is a passion-storm the nations swaying
Of Faith that shatters old idolatries,
And a sworn soldier of that Faith am I.
But, " Where is the Lady of my Love? " I cry.

Espilus . Silvanus long in love, and long in vain,
At length obtained the point of his desire,
When being asked, now that he did obtain
His wished weal, what more he could require:
" Nothing," said he, " for most I joy in this,
That goddess mine my blessed being sees."

Therion . When wanton Pan , deceived with lion's skin,
Came to the bed where wound for kiss he got,
To woe and shame the wretch did enter in,

Give end unto thy pastimes, Love,
Before thy labours prove:
A little rest between
Will make thy next shows better seen.
Now let them close their eyes, and see
If they can dream of thee,
Since morning hastes to come in view;
And all the morning dreams are true.
(from Love Restored)

Have men beheld the graces dance,
Or seen the upper orbs to move?
So did these turn, return, advance,
Drawn back by doubt, put on by love.
And now, like earth, themselves they fix,
Till greater powers vouchsafe to mix
Their motions with them. Do not fear,
You brighter planets of this sphere;
Not one male heart you see
But rather to his female eyes
Would die a destined sacrifice
Than live at home and free.
(from Love Restored)

This motion was of love begot
It was so airy, light and good,
His wings into their feet he shot,
Or else himself into their blood.
But ask not how. The end will prove
That love's in them, or they're in love.
(from Love Restored)

O how came Love, that is himself a fire,
To be so cold!
Yes, tyran' money quencheth all desire,
Or makes it old.
But here are beauties will revive
Love's youth and keep his heat alive:
As often as his torch here dies,
He needs but light it at fresh eyes.
Joy, joy the more; for in all courts
If Love be cold, so are his sports.
(from Love Restored)

We travelled in the print of olden wars,
Yet all the land was green,
And love we found, and peace,
Where fire and war had been.

They pass and smile, the children of the sword —
No more the sword they wield;
And O, how deep the corn
Along the battle-field!1 From Travels with a Donkey .