poems about love

There's many and many, and not so far,
Is willing to dry my tears away;
There's many to tell me what you are,
And never a lie to all they say.

It's little the good to hide my head,
It's never the use to bar my door;
There's many as counts the tears I shed,
There's mourning hearts for my heart is

There's honester eyes than your blue eyes,
There's better a mile than such as you.
But when did I say that I was wise,
And when did I hope that you were true?

v.13ff
C. M.
Breathing after heaven.

Return, O God of love, return;
Earth is a tiresome place:
How long shall we, thy children, mourn
Our absence from thy face?

Let heav'n succeed our painful years,
Let sin and sorrow cease,
And in proportion to our tears
So make our joys increase.

Thy wonders to thy servants show,
Make thy own work complete;
Then shall our souls thy glory know,
And own thy love was great.

Then shall we shine before thy throne

v.12-14
C. M.
Love to enemies.

Behold the love, the gen'rous love,
That holy David shows;
Hark, how his sounding bowels move
To his afflicted foes!

When they are sick his soul complains,
And seems to feel the smart;
The spirit of the gospel reigns,
And melts his pious heart.

How did his flowing tears condole
As for a brother dead!
And fasting mortified his soul,
While for their life he prayed.

They groaned, and cursed him on their bed,

Brotherly love.

Lo! what an entertaining sight
Are brethren that agree!
Brethren, whose cheerful hearts unite
In bands of piety!

When streams of love from Christ the spring
Descend to every soul,
And heav'nly peace, with balmy wing,
Shades and bedews the whole;

'Tis like the oil, divinely sweet,
On Aaron's reverend head
The trickling drops perfumed his feet,
And o'er his garments spread.

'Tis pleasant as the morning dews
That fall on Zion's hill,

Complaint of quarrelsome neighbors; or, A devout wish for peace.

Thou God of love, thou ever-blest,
Pity my suff'ring state;
When wilt thou set my soul at rest
From lips that love deceit?

Hard lot of mine! my days are cast
Among the sons of strife,
Whose never-ceasing brawling waste
My golden hours of life.

O might I fly to change my place,
How would I choose to dwell
In some wide lonesome wilderness,
And leave these gates of hell!

Peace is the blessing that I seek,

A quite convincing axiom
Is, 'Life is like a play';
For, turning back its pages some
Few dog-eared years away,
I find where I
Committed my
Love-tale--with brackets where to sigh.

I feel an idle interest
To read again the page;
I enter, as a lover dressed,
At twenty years of age,
And play the part
With throbbing heart,
And all an actor's glowing art.

And she who plays my Lady-love
Excels!--Her loving glance
Has power her audience to move--
I am her audience.--

Maidens, gather not the yew,
Leave the glossy myrtle sleeping;
Any lad was born untrue,
Never a one is fit your weeping.

Pretty dears, your tumult cease;
Love's a fardel, burthening double.
Clear your hearts, and have you peace-
Gangway, girls: I'll show you trouble.

The April rains are past, the frosts austere,
The flowers are hungering for the genial sun,
The snow 's dissolved, the merry birds are here,
And rural labors now are well begun.
Hither, from the disturbing, noisy Court
I 've flown to this sequestered, quiet scene,
To meditate on Love and Love's disport
Mid these smooth pastures and the meadows green.
Sure 't were no fault of mine, no whispering sin,
If these coy leaves he sends me seem to speak
All that my heart, caressing, folds within;

Ah! why so brief the visit, short his stay?
The acquaintance so surprising, and so sweet,
Stolen is my heart, 't is journeying far away,
With that shy stranger whom my voice did greet.
That hour so fertile of entrancing thought,
So rapt the conversation, and so free,
My heart lost soundings, tenderly upcaught,
Driven by soft sails of love and ecstasy!
Was I then? was I? clasped in Love's embrace,
And touched with ardors of divinity?
Spake with my chosen lover face to face,
Espoused then truly? such my destiny?

Love, out of the depth of things,
As a dewfall felt from above,
From the heaven whence only springs
Love,

Love, heard from the heights thereof,
The clouds and the watersprings,
Draws close as the clouds remove.

And the soul in it speaks and sings,
A swan sweet-souled as a dove,
An echo that only rings
Love.