love poems for her

Love was a judge, and he held a court
With the culprit in the box.
He had flung him into his jail, — Despair, —
Close under double locks.

The crier cried, and the court began.
The attorney rose and said,
" The prisoner at the bar, my lord,
We charge, as shall be read. "

And he read a long indictment through,
That charged contempt of love.
" He has spoken slightingly of you,

When in thy folding arms I lie,
My head upon thy faithful breast,
I doubt not immortality,
But know I am forever blest.

Time then exists no more for me,
Nor measure years the orbs above:
I'm living in eternity, —
The deathless bliss of deathless love.

I.

Cruel Amynta , can you see
A Heart thus torn which you betray'd?
Love of himself ne'er vanquish'd me,
But thro' your Eyes the Conquest made.

II.

In Ambush there the Traitor lay,
Where I was led by faithless Smiles:
No Wretches are so lost as they,
Whom much Security beguiles.

I HAVE no fear of thee,
That thou wilt swerve from me;
My feeling is so closely wound
About thy being, through, around,
I cannot fancy how
We two could part: canst thou?

Only in day-dreams do I dream of thee!
By day our Past moves ever by my side,
A mystic Presence of majestic mien,
In samite clad white as its stainless soul, —
And eyes like his who sought the Holy Grail.

By day, by day, O thou beloved and lost!
Under the hidden current of my life
The thought of thee runs ever, tingeing all
With its own color, even as the sky
Lends its own azure to the sleeping lake.

By day, by day, the soft airs breathe thy name;
The strong winds bear it on their mighty wings;

My grandam says to me:
" Judith, which would you rather be,
Light o' love in a lad's heart,
Or true woman, playing her part? "

I said, wild with young desire,
" I will not be a sit-by-the-fire,
No free bird houses him, lark or snipe,
But you sit chimney-side with a pipe. "

I flung my hair back,
And, with head high,
Danced forth out the door,
Lest I should cry.

Well I feared the lad I loved
Loved a blonde lass true,
And what against pale gold
Can a black head do?

I S it Nature? — Is it Art,
That can wind thee round my heart?
Where are now ( thy conquering arms)
Beauty's flame, and vernal charms?
Dimpled smiles, and blooming cheek,
That in love, though mute, could speak?
They are vanish'd — they are fled —
Still in fetters I am led;
Memory no more can tell,
Why in youth we lov'd so well;
Or describe the magic power,
That enchanted every hour?
All her shadows, in the air,
Of the parting ray despair.

T HE Judge, his ermine laid aside,
For happiness exchanging pride,
Of life's gay term renews the lease,
And plays at cribbage with his Niece .

'Tis true the Niece we here disclose
Is lovely as a new-born rose;
And Love could find a golden fleece,
If he should light on such a Niece .

The vestals of severe decorum,
A dish of scandal plac'd before 'em,
Have tongues that cannot rest in peace
Till they have stripp'd the Judge's Niece .

Whatever he can do or say,

" The Lyre to Heroes had been strung,
But Love alone the tune it sung;
Again 'twas Love; no other sound,
The Poet or the Minstrel found. "
Thus in her frolic Winter's day,
Anacreon's cheerful Muse could play;
But mine, which Agonies inspire,
Tunes with no other string the lyre;
Could Love himself the chords demand,
They would reject his impious hand;
Call'd in his name , but proudly mute,
The baffled insult would refute.

Those who love the most,
Do not talk of their love,
Francesca, Guinevere,
Deirdre, Iseult, Heloise,
In the fragrant gardens of heaven
Are silent, or speak if at all
Of fragile inconsequent things.
And a woman I used to know
Who loved one man from her youth,
Against the strength of the fates
Fighting in somber pride
Never spoke of this thing,
But hearing his name by chance,
A light would pass over her face.