poems about love

The trees they lean'd in their love unto trees,
That lock'd in their loves, and were so made strong,
Stronger than armies; ay, stronger than seas
That rush from their caves in a storm of song.

Sky scanned the mind and found behind
Holes in the mind, more mind behind,
Clouds to provide appearances of thought.

‘Dear Sister!’ it cried,
‘One kiss!’
The bland outrage
Spread over both as one,
Whispering ‘This is heaven.’

‘Oh, no,’ said the populations
Getting out of bed into slippers,
‘What lovely weather!
To-day is Sunday!’

My mother's gone a-wandering
Away to yonder town;
My father in the alehouse
Is safely settled down;
There's not a girl to gossip;
There's not a lad at home:
I'm all alone and waiting—
So come, my darling, come!
Tell me what I'm doing
By the fire-light here,
All for you, love, all for true love,
All for luck, my dear.

I told a lady's fortune
In that big house hard by
No Gipsy could have done it
More cleverly than I;
I promised that she'd marry
A lord with heaps of gold;

Bid me not sing: think of the gifts I gave
To love and thee; require me not to sing!
They who crown poets now must pass me by:
I have no claim to wear the bays they bring.
To please thy mood one day I broke my lute,
And now forever is my music mute.

Bid me not sing: since when thy mouth met mine,
“Love, love,” the only words my lips can say.
Lost is the cunning of my worshipped art;
Among my peers I must walk dumb alway.
For thee I counted song a worthless thing.
My heart will break if now thou bidst me sing!

From my love me they would part,
From my love so fair.
A fair lady did I love,
Loved with all my mind and heart,
But fortune and the fates above
Keep me still from her apart,
From my love so fair.

And since her from me they keep,
Will I go to distant lands,
My ill fortune there to weep
And my love so fair.

Now must I from her depart,
But if thus my eyes that grieve
And my life my love must leave,
Here, O here remains my heart
With my love so fair.

When War's red banners trailed along the sky,
And many a manly heart grew all aflame
With patriotic love and purest aim,
There rose a noble soul who dared to die,
If only Right could win. He heard the cry
Of struggling bondmen and he quickly came,
Leaving the haunts where Learning tenders fame
Unto her honored sons; for it was ay
A loftier cause that lured him on to death.
Brave men who saw their brothers held in chains,
Beneath his standard battled ardently.
O friend! O hero! thou who yielded breath

A little cross,
To tell my loss;
A little bed
To rest my head;
A little tear is all I crave
Under my very little grave.

I strew thy bed
Who loved thy lays;
The tear I shed,
The cross I raise,
With nothing more upon it than—
Here lies the Little Friend of Man!

The minstrel of the classic lay
Of love and wine who sings
Still found the fingers run astray
That touched the rebel strings.

Of Cadmus he would fain have sung,
Of Atreus and his line;
But all the jocund echoes rung
With songs of love and wine.

Ah, brothers! I would fain have caught
Some fresher fancy's gleam;
My truant accents find, unsought,
The old familiar theme.

Love, Love! but not the sportive child
With shaft and twanging bow,
Whose random arrows drove us wild
Some threescore years ago;

In the meadow—what in the meadow?
Bluebells, buttercups, meadowsweet,
And fairy rings for the children's feet
In the meadow.

In the garden—what in the garden?
Jacob's-ladder and Solomon's-seal,
And Love-lies-bleeding beside All-heal
In the garden.

Where love is, there comes sorrow
Today or else tomorrow:
Endure the mood,
Love only means our good.

Where love is, there comes pleasure
With or withouten measure,
Early or late
Cheering the sorriest state.

Where love is, all perfection
Is stored for heart's delection;
For where love is
Dwells every sort of bliss.

Who would not choose a sorrow
Love's self will cheer tomorrow?
One day of sorrow,
Then such a long tomorrow!