love poetry

The thrushes throng the grove —
O golden notes,
Drenched with desire and love
From fairy throats!

How jocund are the field
And meadow greening!
What whisper has revealed
The warm wind's meaning?

A lark aloft outfloods
His chant afar,
As above sombre woods
A courier star.

The sun, the spring are here
And May's green dance.
The dreaming days appear
Of old romance.

Ah spring, ah May, in sooth
How throbs this hour!
How earth renews her youth!

O hair of Timo, O sandal of Heliodora, O myrrh-breathing mouth of Demarion, O voluptuous laugh of ox-eyed Anticleia, O new-flowered coronals of Dorothea!
Your quiver, Love, conceals no more winged shafts — all your arrows are in me!

Say to Laecenis, Dorcas: " See how she who feigned Love is discovered! Time reveals false love. "

L OVE'S S ONG

Sweet were those moments when the heart was gay,
And the soul's realm, the court of joy's array:
Thoughts of those times now o'er my spirit stray,
For love of God! O Heavens! mercy! pray!
The pride of both the day and night was I.

A garden fair was that my soul's repose;
Like those in Eden's bower, its every rose;
But parting comes and all of that o'erthrows,
Now in my heart nought but its mem'ry glows.

THE SONG OF LOVE'S NURSE

O moon! sleep, sleep thou, for this night
The cry " O Lord! " upon thine ear shall smite;
Though formed, its purpose is yet hid from sight,
It shall be seen — the stars' potential might.
Thou'lt be the roast upon the spit of pain!

O Rosebud! sleep thou then this little while;
The Sphere's design against thee sooth is vile,
For pitiless is it and strong in guile;
Ah! never trust it, even though it smile.

ANSWER TO HER QUESTION, WHAT LOVE WAS .

If I behold your eyes,
Love is a paradise:
But if I view my heart,
'Tis an infernal smart.

F RAGMENT

Think not that with Kevser's praises hearts become of joy full;
Preacher, rather doth the tale of mouth and kiss the soul rule.
Thinking of her rubies red, whene'er I drink tobacco,
The nargila's a flask of wine, the pipe-bowl is a sumbul.
Know how holy is her land: — who dwelleth in Edirna,
Ere he to the Ka'ba bends, doth turn him to Istambul.

Let him be sold as he sleeps in his mother's arms, let him be sold! Why should such a wastrel be nourished?
He was born snub-nosed and winged; he scratches savagely with his nails, he laughs and cries at once; moreover he is obstinate, ever-talking, sharp-sighted, wild, and not even gentle to his mother. A complete monster.
Let him be sold. If any merchant, just about to sail, wishes to buy a slave, let him step forward.
But see! he begs, he weeps! I will not sell you! Be happy, you shall stay and grow up near Zenophile.

I make a proclamation after wild Love, who flew from my bed this very morning.
He is a child, causing-sweet-tears, ever-talking, sharp, fearless, laughing with wrinkled nose, winged on his back and carrying a quiver.
I cannot tell who was his father, for neither the Air, the Earth nor the Sea would boast of begetting him; everywhere and by every one he is hated. Take care he does not set new snares in your souls!
But look! there he is in his lair. I see you, little arrowshooter, hiding in Zenophile's eyes!

Terrible — O Love, you are terrible!
What use is it for me to lament, saying again and again: " Love is terrible " ? He laughs at me; he is glad to be abused; he feeds upon curses!
It is a marvel to me, Aphrodite, how you who were born from the hoary sea, brought forth fire from water!