love poems for her

Oh for the glow of Titian
Or Shakesperes wondrous themes
I then might sing of what thou art
The beautiful of dreams
Thine eye the language of the soul
What eloquence can vie
With their calm light which beauty stole
Whose spirit makes reply

2

The immortality of mind
The happy face reveals
And something more than earthly love
Upon the gazer steals
These lips are full of pastoral thoughts
How beautiful they are
The ripest cherries on the tree
Nor rubies are so fair

3

Helen Maria! lovely Helen!
Ere the foliage leaves the tree,
Ere the snow storm hides the dwelling,
Take a country walk with me,
In thy sunday shawl, and gown;
With thy best straw bonnet on,
Let us leave the tiresome town,
And go where love and summer's gone —

2

Go to the grove of willows grey,
That lean upon the rivers side,
Where the green flag's, rustling play,
And the wild duck, wanders wide:
Where the old oak, darkly green,
Shows autumn in a yellow bough;
Helen Maria seek the scene,

Theres many worships loves first flowers
As joys reality
& dwells on smiles that once was ours
As they woud never dye
But manhood youths fond dreams destroys
& scores have lovd as vain
& parted wi the bosom joys
Theyll never meet again

Ive drank to thee when at the brook
As others do by wine
Theirs was the palm in sugard taste
But love made out for mine

Nature that taught my silly dog, God wat,
Even for my sake to lick where I do love,
Enforced him, whereas my lady sat,
With humble suit before her falling flat,
As in his sort he might her pray and move
To rue upon his lord and not forget
The steadfast faith he beareth her, and love;
Kissing her hand: whom she could not remove
Away that would for frowning nor for threat,
As though he would have said in my behove,
Pity, my lord, your slave that doth remain,
Lest by his death you guiltless slay us twain.

Wer't granted me to choose,
How I would end my dayes;
Since I this Life must loose,
It should be in Your praise;
For there is no Bayes
Can be set above you.

S'impossibly I love You
And for You sit so hie,
Whence none may remove You
In my cleere Poesie,
That I oft deny
You so ample Merit.

The freedome of my Spirit

It was not I that dared betray
What none should know but you and me:
The moon beheld from heaven's way
And told the tale to all the sea.

The ripples laughed in elvish joy
And told the oar-blade, water-pearled;
The oar-blade told the fisher-boy,
Who sang our love to all the world!

Suppose the stars
Fall and break? — Do they ever sound
Like my own love song?

After Hadewijch of Anvers, thirteenth century

If your days swirled to chaos, wouldn't you turn
to someone on whose shoulder you could weep?
St. Paul says it's better to marry than to burn.
Wouldn't you choose the solace of escape
into the brief banquet of tenderness?
My widowed minister, with three motherless
children; my dear, whom my friends think is odd
(some even think my Calvin may be mad):

What is gentlest in love is love's violence.
Losing yourself in love, you reach love's goal.

Thomas Edison loved a doll
with a tiny phonograph inside
because he made her speak.

Is there any other reason
to love a woman? Did she say
the ghost of my conception.

or something equally demure?
It's hard to be sure how he feels
when he holds me, I fall apart.

I'm projecting here. He didn't feel
her first transgression
was in having no expression.

Rene Descartes, too, traveled alone
with a doll-in-a-box
he called his daughter. Francine ,