poems about love

Down in a meadow fresh and gay,
Picking lilies all the day;
Picking lilies both red and blue,
I little thought what love could do.

Where love is planted there it grows,
It buds and blossoms like any rose,
It has so sweet and a pleasant smell,
No flowers on earth can it excel.

There's thousands, thousands in a room,
My love she carries the brightest bloom;
Surely she is the chosen one,
I will have her and I will have none.

I saw a ship sailing on the sea,
Loaded as deep as she could be;

Lady fair, will you not listen
To my ardent vows of love?
Love that in my eyes doth glisten,
And is firm as Heaven above.

But if you have not met and kissed
Your lonely Love's Beloved One,
Your heart's a rosebud in a mist
That has not known the sun.

And though the world be glad and loud
With all the singing joy of June,
Your soul's a lily in a cloud
That has not seen the moon.

[So lovely] even in its cry,—
What were the cuckoo if it laughed?

Lovely for youth, the look on life's lit face,
And limitless his longing
All beckonings and beguilements to embrace.
Unseen, those spectres thronging.
Marvel, the mind's emergence innocent-eyed,
Unblemished and believing,
World welcomed he, who goes without a guide
Toward wrongs beyond retrieving.

if I love You
(thickness means
worlds inhabited by roamingly
stern bright faeries

if you love
me) distance is mind carefully
luminous with innumerable gnomes
Of complete dream

if we love each (shy ly)
other, what clouds do or Silently
Flowers resembles beauty
less than our breathing

MY LOVE comes down from the mountain
Through the mists of dawn;
I look, and the star of the morning
From the sky is gone.

My love comes down from the mountain,
At dawn, dewy-sweet;
Did you step from the star to the mountain,
O little white feet?

O whence came your twining tresses
And your shining eyes,
But out of the gold of the morning
And the blue of the skies?

The misty morning is burning
In the sun's red fire,
And the heart in my breast is burning
And lost in desire.

Certain Verses very weary
On their laggard footsteps coming
In the Tuscan manner dreary,
Chanced upon a lover humming
Of his woes and bitter sorrows
In the heavy-footed measures
And the leaden-weighted treasures
That were used in ancient morrows—
Heaven forgive our Castillejo
For having praised these oldtime lays so!
“And whence,” said Love in passion,
“This measure so o'erweighted
Our ears have so much hated?”
They answered in this fashion:
“This is a foreign gabble,
The subject without reason,

Who shall have my fayre lady?
Who shall have my faire lady?
Who but I, who but I, who but I?
Under the levys grene,
Under the levys grene.

The fayrest man
That best love can,
Dandirly, dandirly, dandirly dan,
Under the levys grene,
Under the levys grene.

I love you, because in my thousand and one nights of dreams,
I never once dreamed of you.
I looked down paths that traveled from afar,
but it was never you I expected.
Suddenly I've felt you flying through my soul
in quick, lofty flight,
and how beautiful you seem way up there, far
from my always idiot heart!
Love me that way, flying over everything.
And, like the bird on its branch, land in my arms
only to rest,
then fly off again.
Be not like the romantic ones who, in love, set me on fire.
When you climb up my mansion,