poems about love

Love's records, written on a heart like mine,
Not Time's last effort can efface a line.

Love that is dead and buried, yesterday
Out of his grave rose up before my face;
No recognition in his look, no trace
Of memory in his eyes dust-dimmed and grey.
While I, remembering, found no word to say,
But felt my quickened heart leap in its place;
Caught afterglow, thrown back from long-set days,
Caught echoes of all music passed away.
Was this indeed to meet?—I mind me yet
In youth we met when hope and love were quick,
We parted with hope dead, but love alive:
I mind me how we parted then heart-sick,

My love she's bonny hale and young
But O' she's got a saucey tongue
She'll frown and jeer for a the year
And winna listen to a song.

My love she's hale and bonny too
Wi' gay straw hat and ribbons blue
Wi' gown O' green and saucey e'en
And lips that part as saucey too.

My love is scarcely in her teens
She's five years wanting sweet sixteen
A lovely girl wi' teeth O' pearl
But no' so kind she might ha' been.

She wants three month O' seventeen
The maiden in her gown O' green

Do ye like the heath lassie
There to hear the wild bee
The Ring fingers brassey
The Blue skipper free
Up and down dancing
Out oer the lea
In the sun glancing
Then wander with me

Take up your bonnet love
On with your shawl love
The walk depend on it love
Is pleasant for all love
Do ye like the hills maiden
Oer laden with thyme
With rock roses braiden
Shining bright and divine

Do ye like the furze prickly
Yellow over with flower
And crimpt brake looking sickly
In the sunsetting hour

O love of mine, some months ago
(Emotion my speech hinders)
Our passion lost its ruddy glow
And flickered out in cinders.

And yet, old dear, that winter through
(Before our paths divided)
Did any other care for you
As ardently as I did?

But now resumes love's festival,
Rekindling ancient embers—
And all the former fever shall
Revivify your members.

Again I'll woo you, and will deem
You worthy of your wages,
And, as a gauge of my esteem,
Keep steam up in your gauges.

Some day when Death shall come with quiet footsteps
To lead me far away,
And memories it took a life to gather
Are scattered in a day,

I think that there is one will never leave me
Through all the changing years,
And that your love will follow me undaunted
Across those dark frontiers.

Within a forest, as I strayed
Far down a sombre autumn glade,
I found the god of love;
His bow and arrows cast aside,
His lovely arms extended wide,
A depth of leaves above,
Beneath o'erarching boughs he made
A place for sleep in russet shade.

His lips, more red than any rose,
Were like a flower that overflows
With honey pure and sweet;
And clustering round that holy mouth,
The golden bees in eager drouth
Plied busy wings and feet;
They knew, what every lover knows,

This passion is but an ember
Of a Sun, of a Fire, long set;
I could not live and remember,
And so I love and forget.

You say, and the tone is fretful,
That my mourning days were few,
You call me over forgetful—
My God, if you only knew!

Soft follower of the early star,
Once more I feel you drawing near.
Come! for my evening is not come
Till you are here.

You make it—as yourself is made—
Of loveliest, sweet, untroubled things,
Fled with love's day. I feel love's night
Fall from your wings.

In a Roses' bower
Sweet Philomel sat, singing
All her night-long passion to those lovely hearts:

Only the Moon looked on them,
Heard what she sang; and the Roses
Answered, breathing their perfumes back from echoing depths.