love poems for her

Thus ends my Love, but this doth grieve me most,
That so it ends, but that ends too, this yet,
Besides the Wishes, hopes and time I lost,
Troubles my mind awhile, that I am set
Free, worse then deny'd: I can neither boast
Choice nor success, as my Case is, nor get
Pardon from my self, that I loved not
A better Mistress, or her worse; this Debt
Only's her due, still, that she be forgot
Ere chang'd, lest I love none; this done, the taint
Of foul Inconstancy is clear'd at least
In me, there only rests but to unpaint

The thriftles thred which pampred beauty spinnes,
In thraldom binds the foolish gazing eyes:
As cruell Spiders with their crafty ginnes,
In worthlesse webbes doe snare the simple Flies.
The garments gay, the glittring golden gite,
The tysing talk which flowes from Pallas pooles:
The painted pale, the (too much) red made white,
Are smiling baytes to fishe for loving fooles.
But lo, when eld in toothlesse mouth appeares,
And hoary heares in steede of beauties blaze:
Then had I wist, doth teach repenting yeares,

Thou cheat'st us Ford , mak'st one seeme two by Art.
What is Loves Sacrifice , but the broken Heart?

This midnight brings a moonless,
glossless dark, leaving our dew unlit
and mysterious in the grass.
My lady
begins as usual to cross
the gloomy path,
barefoot over grass and I
shall see her face
framed in my window's glass.
And inside her wild eyes
the illusions will break.
There —
the dew changes
her ebony hair to green
and a damp lock clings
to her brow. Now she stretches
out her hand without a word
(lovers need none) to show where
the golden band of love has been removed

They say the most of mothers
Are something pretty fine,
But nobody else's mother
Can be so dear as mine.

She never fails or falters
When things go hard or wrong;
No matter what my troubles,
She'll help me right along.

Her thought for me is endless —
A million times a day
She gives me love and comfort,
For which I cannot pay.

I can't begin to tell her
My love in just a line,
But no one else's mother
Is quite so dear as mine.

These are my scales to weigh reality, —
A dream, a chord, a longing, love of Thee.
Real as the violets of April days,
Or those soft-hid in unfrequented ways;
Real as the noiseless tune to which we tread
The measure we by life's old song are led;
Real as man's wonder what his soul may be, —
A guest for time or for eternity.
Real as the ocean, seen, alas! no more,
Whose tide still beats along my heart's inshore.
These are my scales to weigh reality, —
A chord, a dream, a longing, love of Thee!

There was three worms on yonder hill,
They neither could not hear nor see.
I wish I'd been but one of them
When first I gained my liberty.

Then a brisk young lad came a-courting me,
He stole away my liberty.
He stole it away with a free good will,
He've a-got it now and he'll keep it still.

Oh for once I wore my apron strings low,
My love followed me through frost and snow,
But now they're almost up to my chin
My love passed by and say nothing.

Now there is an alehouse in this town

Tell me no more of minds embracing minds,
And hearts exchanged for hearts;
That spirits spirits meet, as winds do winds,
And mix their subtlest parts;
That two unbodied essences may kiss,
And then like angels, twist and feel one bliss.

I was that silly thing that once was wrought
To practise this thin love;
I climbed from sex to soul, from soul to thought;
But thinking there to move,
Headlong I rolled from thought to soul, and then
From soul I lighted at the sex again.

Though I am like Laila, yet my heart loves like Majnun. I wish to keep my head towards the desert, but modesty chains my feet down.
The nightingale came to sit in the company of the flower in the garden, because she was my pupil. I am an expert in love matters: — even the moth is our pupil.

Take it, love!
'Twill soon be over,
With the thickening of the clover,
With the calling of the plover,
Take it, take it, lover.

Take it, boy!
The blossom's falling,
And the farewell cuckoo's calling,
While the sun and showers are one,
Take your love out in the sun.

Take it, girl!
And fear no after,
Take your fill of all this laughter,
Laugh or not, the tears will fall,
Take the laughter first of all.