poems about love

The leaves of all the forests,
If thou art skilled to reckon;
If thou canst tell the billows
Of all the seas together;
Of the loves then of my bosom,
I'll make thee sole accountant.
And first of all from Athens,
Of loves put down a twenty,
And then add fifteen others;
And let forsooth from Corinth,
A swarm of loves be added;
For, troth, does not Achaia
Abound with beauteous women?
Then put me down the Lesbians,
And further the Ionians,
And those from Rhodes and Karia,
Of loves, in all two thousand.

I KNOW , Justine, you speak me fair
—As often as we meet;
And 'tis a luxury, I swear,
—To hear a voice so sweet;
And yet it does not please me quite,
—The civil way you've got;
For me you're something too polite—
—Justine, you love me not!

I know Justine, you never scold
—At aught that I may do:
If I am passionate or cold,
—'Tis all the same to you.
“A charming temper,” say the men,
—“To smooth a husband's lot”:
I wish 'twere ruffled now and then—
—Justine you love me not!

I WAS born in Illinois,
Have lived there many days.
And I have Northern words,
And thoughts,
And ways.

But my great-grandfathers came
To the west with Daniel Boone,
And taught his babes to read,
And heard the redbird's tune;

And heard the turkey's call,
And stilled the panther's cry,
And rolled on the blue-grass hills,
And looked God in the eye.

And feud and Hell were theirs;
Love, like the moon's desire,
Love like a burning-mine,
Love like rifle-fire.

I tell tales out of school

There is no Life or Death,
Only activity
And in the absolute
Is no declivity.
There is no Love or Lust
Only propensity
Who would possess
Is a nonentity.
There is no First or Last
Only equality
And who would rule
Joins the majority
There is no Space or Time
Only intensity,
And tame things
Have no immensity.

Deep in a Rose's glowing heart
I dropped a single kiss,
And then I bade it quick depart,
And tell my Lady this:

“The love thy Lover tried to send
O'erflows my fragrant bowl,
But my soft leaves would break and bend,
Should he send half the whole!”

The moon dips low and the stars grow dim.
In the tower, a lovely girl sleeps in sweet abandon.
Her radiant hair falls tousled.
Her pillow glistens with tears.
It is quiet within the screens.

The sudden cry of the cuckoo shatters love's tender dream
A pale shimmer lights the east as she first awakens.
A thin mist covers the willows.
The flowers are heavy with dew.
Her thoughts become unbearable.

Flower of the May!
What shall I do to make her forget me?
She is so sad that should be so gay.

Ah, jessamine flower!
I toucht her hand and it set me on fire:
What would her lips do for power?

O scarlet sorrel—
She that I love hath so pretty a rage
I love her wildest when she and I quarrel.

Honey of lime!
Loving is easy; but how to end loving!
Ah, that is harder than rhyme!

Wild purple heather,
You who have lain in her bosom this morn
Lie now in mine, and link us together.

1. Come all my fair ones, Come, all my dear ones, Come and
lis ten unto me. “Could you fancy a jolly
sailor lad That has just come from sea? Could you
fancy a jolly sailor lad That has just come from sea?”

2 “No, I dislike them,
No, I despise them,
For they smell so much of tar!
So begone, you sassy sailor lad,
So begone, you Jack tar.”

3 “I have ships on the ocean, love,
I have money in my pocket, love,
I have gold in great store
I would give to a poor country girl
If she would wed Jack Tar.”

This shrine a precious gift enfolds;
Look, when its lids unclose,
Not on the shining cross it holds,
But on the love it shows.

What though the silvered brow may seem
Amid the youthful throng
A little farther down the stream
That bears us all along;

Those murmuring waves are mute today,
The stream forgets to run,
The brown locks mingle with the gray,
And all our hearts are one.

Ah, could we bring earth's sweetestsong
And bear its brightest gold,
The gift our grateful hearts would wrong,

My God, to do thy will
Caged I can rejoice;
Hearken to my voice:
[']Tis my election still:
Direct my choice,
My God, to do thy will.

I sing the live day long,
Lord, thyself, to please:
Extreme miseries
But make my love more strong;
No one near to tease
I sing the live day long[.]

Thou understandest, Lord,
Syllables of love,
Wise men know not of,
Within the chaste heart stored
Speech all speech above:
Thou understandest, Lord.

Freedom my soul doth fill
Though I am a slave: