love poem

The strong wind on the unsheltered down
Shook loose her fluttering hair;
The very sun seemed glad to crown
The head of one so fair.

The Channel sang beneath blue skies
Its sounding song, and she,
With love's light laughter in her eyes,
Made earth as heaven for me.

Five bourgeois faces as the reeling train
Plunged headlong into darkness and the damp,
Glared in the dull light of the yellow lamp,
Five faces not indicative of brain.

Three slept and one stared at the window-pane;
One read a book and rose at times to stamp
A foot that seemed uneasy with the cramp.
The wheels ground out a foolish song's refrain.

And though each time the tune came round anew
I sped a furlong further, love, from you,
I could not sorrow then for love's eclipse.

A PRIL has whispered to the rose,
O flower, thy heart is deep and red,
Till evening let me lean my head
Between thy petals that unclose.

I murmured to my soul's delight,
Sweet love, thy heart is red and deep,
O take me in thine arms to sleep
Within thy bosom all the night!

I

H E waits at her door in the midnight;
A light in her window gleams,
A square in the dim great houses
That fairer than fancy seems.

But the days of his love are over,
They have passed to the past and in vain
He waits for her now in the silence
And the first faint fall of the rain.

II

He wandered through the lonely London night,
Her old sweet words of love rang in his ears,

Poor idols, how they fade and fall
Their changeful fanes within!
And only niches in the wall
Tell that a shrine has been.

And " Ah, " you cry, " then Love is nought,
And Faith is lifeless grown! "
But is this seeming unfaith wrought
By changefulness alone?

We love not what our idols are;
We worship what they seem.
And if we worshipped from afar,
We still might love and dream.

A star perchance were not a star
If one could reach the skies;
A touch tells what our idols are —

( A VERY LITTLE BODY .)

I F you had a little lover,
Little Kitten, —
A very little lover,
But dreadfully smitten, —
What would you say,
And what would you do,
If this little lover
Were littler than you?

To love one below you
Never is right;
How could you look up to
A man of less height?
And then a short-coming
Always is wrong.
If you loved him so little,
Could you love him long?

A lover should reach —
The reason, you see —

I

Fair Isabell , if ought but thee
I could, or would, or Like, or Love;
Of other Beauties but approve
To sweeten my Captivitie:
I might those Passions be above,
Those pow'rful Passions that combine
To make, and keepe me onely thyne.

II

Or, if for tempting Treasure I
Of, the World's God , prevailing Gold ,

To Love

I

Great Love, I thank thee, now thou hast
Paid me for all my suff'rings past,
And wounded me with Nature's Pride,
For whom more glory 'tis to die
Scorn'd and neglected, than enjoy
All Beauty in the world beside.

II

A Beauty above all pretence,
Whose very scorns are recompence,
The Regent of my heart is crown'd,
And now the sorrows and the woe,
My Youth and Folly help'd me to,

Vixi puellis

O' LIFE an' love I 'm by wi' a',
Tho' I 've had cause o' baith to brag;
Hang dirk an' chanter on the wa',
Nae mair I 'll reive or squeeze the bag.

Whaur on the left my lantren gleams
Weel gairdit by the sea-born queen,
I lay my love an' war worn leems,
Hae mony a midnicht tulzie seen.

O Venus, fae your island fair
Wi' snawless mountains, hear an' help,

At farmers' faugh lairds still may laugh,
An' the tinker sing as he clouts the pan;
But what will cheer my bairnie dear
When he kens his father 's a witless man?

Bought by a ring, puir silly thing,
An' bent by the wind o' my kinsfolk's breath,
Wha would gang braw, if that were 't a'? —
O! a loveless life it is waur than death!

Will land or hoose seem good excuse
For a mither married where love was nane?
It 's hard for me, this weird to dree,
But it 's waur that I canna bear 't my lane.