love poems for her

Infinet love, & grace. July 2 73

If thou from hell, hadst only set
Us free. twere mercy. infinete
to those, who did rebell
But love, and grace, breaks through each let
and o're the banks did swell.

Thy love that rose exceeding high
In sending down, thy son to dye
our depts, for to discharg
And set, our soulls, att liberty
to walk in postures larg

If thou hadst only to the race
of sinfull Adam, shew'd this grace
To Let them still live here

The souls desire, June 6 73

A burning beacon, of pure love
Still strongly, flaming up to thee
I'de be, untill thou doe remove
Mee up, where love. shall perfect be

This grace of love, is mine eye
The thing, I greatly doe desire
For itt the richest pearls, should lye
Under my feett, as durt, and mire

I will desire no greater pleasure
Then in thesse flames, of love to ly
I will seek for, noe richer tresure
Then. wings of love, wheron to fly

If thou'lt not fill me to the brim

Wonders & misterys of devine love

Oh strang, oh wonderfull
Ther is no reason given why
Thou shouldst not let, thy creture lye
Among the sons, of Adams race
Who did fall, from thy love, and grace
From them, thou givst a pull

It makes me stand amaysd
When I somtimes, doe lett thoughts run
Upon the work, that thou hast done
Whilst with amaizment, I doe see
Thy love, and grace. which flows soe free
Therby my wonder's rays'd

Oh separating love
Oh rich, free, distinguishing grace

dedication,

My hart dear Lord, itt is thine own
thou disdst itt make
Tis thine I say, and thine alone
Oh let it of thy grace pertake
and beautifie
it from on high

Thou calst for it, & here, I give
it up to thee
Oh let thy spirit, in it live
And purg out sin, that it may be
the dwelling place
of love, and grace.

Acept the dedication
of this my hart
And lett it be to me made known
by glorys filling ev'ry part
thy love display
on it alway.

Love, September 1 72

Ther is one thing, which I would crave
The which alone, if I might have
it would sufice
And be my heaven, upon earth
Keeping my soull, free from all dearth
Love, is the grace I prize.

T'would be a heav'n in midst of hell
If love enflam'd, in me might dwell
give that to me
And then I shall not, will not care
For this worlds, overgiulded ware
but shall hasten to thee.

Love would my soull from self unty
And teach it sweetly, to deny
it self in what

Infinet love of Christ

What love is this, that bouled in
The breast of our sweet, sacred king.

From ages of eternity
He did resovle, to come, and dye.

That he might fallen man regain
And bring him back, with him to reign.

Oh how this love should make us blush
Thou hadst (deer Lord) no need of us.

To thine esencyall glory we
Could adde nothing, at all to thee.

thou couldst in thine alfullnese dwell
had we been, in the lowest hell.

I

I T chanced while being in that idle mood
When every vagrant object from without,
Through the dim windows which our senses make,
Hath liberty to cast upon the mind
Its shadow, as it passes and is lost,
That I sate toying with a blotting-pad,
And with a thousand thoughts fantastical
Watched the innumerable glancing waves
Upspringing, 'neath the touches of the sun,
Whose fingers swept the playful ocean crests,
And forming in the region of the clouds
A lovely continent of fairy lands,

1. THE FEAR OF LOVE

O could my love devise
A shield for you from envious lips and eyes
That desecrate the sweetness of your days
With tumults of their praise!

O could my love design
A secret, sealed, invulnerable shrine
To hide you, happy and inviolate,
From covetous Time and Fate.

Love, I am drenched with fear
Lest the uncounted avarice of the year
Add to the triumph of all garnered grace
The rapture of your face!

I tremble with despair

1. THE OFFERING

Were beauty mine, beloved, I would bring it
Like a rare blossom to Love's glowing shrine;
Were dear youth mine, beloved, I would fling it
Like a rich pearl into Love's lustrous wine:

Were greatness mine, Beloved, I would offer
Such radiant gifts of glory and of fame,
Like camphor and like curds to pour and proffer
Before Love's bright and sacrificial flame.

But I have naught save my heart's deathless passion
That craves no recompense divinely sweet,

8

" The little hand of Telmarine
Presses thy bosom, Etheline!
The soft warm cheek of Telmarine
Rests on thy cold face, Etheline.
Konig's blue eyes, in Telmarine
Smile on the softer blue of thine
Is it not well? " said Adwick, sighing;
" Art thou not happy? " " Yes, and dying,
My Adwick! " pressing with her own
His hand, she said, in sweetest tone, Her eyes on his o'erflowing eyes
Fix'd, " I am dying. Be not thou
(My Friend! my Love!) offended now,
That my soul yearns again to see