love poem

A Song

To be gazing on those charms,
To be folded in those arms,
To unite my lips with those
Whence eternal sweetness flows;
To be lov'd by one so fair
Is to be blest beyond compare.

On that bosom to recline,
While that hand is lock'd in mine;
In those eyes myself to view,
Gazing still and still on you.
To be lov'd by one so fair
Is to be blest beyond compare.

To the Same

Thou fairest, most divine of womankind,
Angel in form, and goddess in thy mind,
I've seen you, charmer; that alone will prove
As I have seen, so I, of course, must love.
I own I merit no-one so divine,
But yet, if love is merit, you are mine.
Then to my fate the last decision give;
Or frown me into dust, or smile, and bid me live.

Pretty robin at my window,
Welcoming the day
With thy loud and liquid piping,
Read my riddle, pray.
I have conned it waking, sleeping,
Vexed the more for aye.
Thou'rt a wizard, pretty robin —
Does he love me — say?

Lady violet, blooming meekly
By the brooklet free,
Bending low thy gentle forehead
All its grace to see,
Turn thee from the wooing water,
Whisper soft, I pray,
For the winds might hear my secret —
Does he love me — say?

Star that through the silent night-tide

Those Testy Souls whom every Word offends,
Like Porcupines and Nettles, have no Friends.

I F Everyone is slighting You Alone,
The Fault is always, possibly, your own.

H E pelts each Dog that barks at him, and so
Has Time for Naught but finding Stones to throw.

Dislikes may whet your Wit, but leave you lonely;
True Happiness is found in Loving, only.
W HEN in comes Doubt,
Love goes out.

When a' the Warld had clos'd their Een,
Fatigu'd with Labour, Care and Din,
And quietly ilka weary Wight
Enjoy'd the Silence of the Night:
Then Cupid , that ill-deedy Get,
With a' his Pith rapt at my Yet.
Surpriz'd, throw Sleep, I cry'd, Wha's that?
Quoth he, A poor young Wean a' wet;
Oh! haste ye apen, — fear nae Skaith,
Else soon this Storm will be my Death.

With his Complaint my Saul grew wae,
For as he said I thought it sae;
I took a Light, and fast did rin

Purananuru 271

The chaste trees, dark-clustered,
blend with the land
that knows no dryness;
the colors on the leaves
mob the eyes.

We've seen those leaves
on jeweled women,
on their mounds
of love.

Now the chaste wreath lies slashed
on the ground, so changed, so mixed
with blood, the vulture snatches it
with its beak,
thinking it raw meat.

We see this too
just because a young man

The archivist in us shudders at such cold-
blooded destruction of the word, but since
we're only human, we commit our sins
to the flames. Sauve qui peut; fear makes us bold.

Tanka was bolder: when the weather turned
from fair to frigid, he saw his way clear
to build a sacrificial fire
in which a priceless temple Buddha burned.

(The pretext? Simple: what he sought
was legendary Essence in the ash.
But if it shows up only in the flesh — ?
He grinned and said, Let's burn the lot!)

1.

A Scholar first my Love implor'd,
And then an empty titled Lord;
The Pedant, talk'd in lofty Strains;
Alas! his Lordship wanted Brains:
I list'ned not, to one or t'other,
But strait referr'd them to my Mother.

2.

A Poet next my Love assail'd,
A Lawyer hop'd to have prevail'd;
The Bard too much approv'd himself,
The Lawyer thirsted after Pelf:
I list'ned not, to one or t'other,
But still referr'd them to my Mother.

3.

An Officer, my Heart wou'd storm,

A maiden to the Delphic temple came,
And hid her brows, and at the shrine bent low.
" What wilt thou?" " Fain would I the future know."
" Of two gifts then have one. Choose: Love or Fame?"
" O Sun-God! Laurels grant, a deathless name!
So at my song far nations' tears may flow,
And men remember though from hence I go;
For in my breast I feel the sacred flame."

Years pass. A weeping woman kneels again,
For mercy to the oracle she sues:
" O give me Love! Take back the bay-crown'd lyre!

With a thousand nights' dream
I have rinsed clear the gentle brow
of my heart's love,
to transplant it
into the heavens.
A fierce bird
knows, and in mimicry
arcs through the midwinter sky.