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do i love thee s
by thomas e spencer (1845-1911)

i ask my heart, "do i love thee?"

but how can i e'er forget
the feelings of joy and rapture
that thrilled me when first we met?
the memory of each glad meeting
is treasured within my heart,
which has well-nigh ceased its beating,
since, in sorrow, we had to part.

each night, as i seek my pillow,

i murmur a prayer for thee,
i breathe thy name, as the sunbeams
flash red on the eastern sea.
thy spirit is still the beacon
that guides me 'mid care and strife,
and there 'twill remain for ever,
my darling, my love, my life.
the miracle s
by charles hanson towne (1877-1949)

that in your absence i can feel this thrill

pulsing my inmost soul; that i can know
such wonder and such ecstasy, until
i marvel at the heights whereto i go,

deem it not strange, beloved; every hour

is white with consecration pure and true;
then, wherefore wakes my heart like some glad flower?
o hush, and hark! there came a thought of you!
i drink the fragrance of the rose s
by charles hanson towne (1877-1949)

i drink the fragrance of the rose,

and yet she has more wealth to give,
the perfume from her red heart flows,
and tells me it is sweet to live.
the rose is forever giving.
i drink the nectar of your love,
i cannot drain your chalice heart,
dear, is it filled from heav'n above?
what is the secret, what the art?
for you are forever loving.
aere perennius s
by charles hanson towne (1877-1949)

as long as the stars of god

hang steadfast in the sky,
and the blossoms 'neath the sod
awake when spring is nigh;
as long as the nightingale
sings love-songs to the rose,
and the winter wind in the vale
makes moan o'er the virgin snows--
as long as these things be
i would tell my love for thee!

as long as the rose of june

burst forth in crimson fire,
and the mellow harvest-moon
shines over hill and spire;
as long as heaven's dew
at morning kisses the sod;
as long as you are you,
and i know that god is god--
as long as these things be
i would tell my love for thee!
selfishness s
by charles hanson towne (1877-1949)

there is so much that you can give to me--

i cannot bring you anything at all,
save worship and the little, tender words
my lips let fall.

but you--oh, you can feed my hungry heart,

and you can fill my chalice soul with wine,
till i grow drunk with drinking, marvelling
at love like thine.

how selfishly i come to beg all this,

i who can give you nothing, dear, at all,
save worship and the little, grateful words
my lips let fall.
by charles hanson towne (1877-1949)

leave me some fragment of our love,

some remnant of our bliss,
that i may drink the joy thereof
through days more bleak than this.

when summer fares forth on the wind,

do all her blossoms go?
nay! some white flower she leaves behind
to still the autumn's woe;

and all her dear remembered grace

lives on, because of this;
so of our love leave me one trace--
one last and deathless kiss!
a wish s
by isaac mccleary

let your veil fall sweet and fragrant

around my face. sensuous as silk
soft and warm as the summer breeze,
close me in safe and secure in a perfumed world.

i look up into your eyes, they smile,

deep, fathomless, with tender love.
i have no care, no anxiety, the ghosts
that haunt are quieted as i lay in your arms.

we have no need for words, just the

inarticulate speech of the heart.
we laugh with joy and move
together as one, tears fall.

impressed on my heart, your heart,

beating a rhythm of long ages past
primitive, fundamental, the mystery
of life, to love and be loved.
in you the earth
by pablo neruda

at times,
tiny and naked,
it seems
as though you would fit
in one of my hands,
as though i�ll clasp you like this
and carry you to my mouth,
my feet touch your feet and my mouth your lips:
you have grown,
your shoulders rise like two hills,
your breasts wander over my breast,
my arm scarcely manages to encircle the thin
new-moon line of your waist:
in love you loosened yourself like sea water:
i can scarcely measure the sky�s most spacious eyes
and i lean down to your mouth to kiss the earth.
a divine rapture s
by francis quarles

e'en like two little bank-dividing brooks,

that wash the pebbles with their wanton streams,
and having ranged and search'd a thousand nooks,
meet both at length in silver-breasted thames,
where in a greater current they conjoin:
so i my best-beloved's am; so he is mine.

e'en so we met; and after long pursuit,

e'en so we joined; we both became entire;
no need for either to renew a suit,
for i was flax, and he was flames of fire:
our firm-united souls did more than twine;
so i my best-beloved's am; so he is mine.

if all those glittering monarchs, that command

the servile quarters of this earthly ball,
should tender in exchange their shares of land,
i would not change my fortunes for them all:
their wealth is but a counter to my coin:
the world 's but theirs; but my beloved's mine.
love's springtide s
-- frank dempster sherman (1860-1916)

my heart was winter-bound until

i heard you sing;
o voice of love, hush not, but fill
my life with spring!

my hopes were homeless things before

i saw your eyes;
o smile of love, close not the door
to paradise!

my dreams were bitter once, and then

i found them bliss;
o lips of love, give me again
your rose to kiss!

springtide of love! the secret sweet

is ours alone;
o heart of love, at last you beat
against my own!
let that love begin s
by todd black

love me in that special way

keep me close at your heart,
think of me as here to stay, and never far apart.
come and take me by the hand
walk with me through the park,
show me that you understand, and hold me close after dark.
let me look into your eyes,
feel the warmth within,
hear your soft and tender sighs, let that love begin.
kiss me in the morning,
keep me dreaming throughout the day,
never wake me without warning,
help me keep my fears at bay.
make this empty life worth living,
be my questions, be my answers,
show me love, take all my giving,
and keep your faith in this romancer.
right now let that love begin,
and keep it strong and true,
so i can go to bed again,
at peace and loving you...
o were my love yon lilac fair s
by robert burns

o were my love yon lilac fair,

wi' purple blossoms to the spring,
and i a bird to shelter there,
when wearied on my little wing;
how i wad mourn when it was torn
by autumn wild and winter rude!
but i wad sing on wanton wing
when youthfu' may its bloom renew'd.

o gin my love were yon red rose

that grows upon the castle wa',
and i mysel a drap o' dew,
into her bonnie breast to fa';
o there, beyond expression blest,
i'd feast on beauty a' the night;
seal'd on her silk-saft faulds to rest,
till fley'd awa' by phoebus' light.
up to her chamber window
--thomas bailey aldrich (1836-1907)

up to her chamber window,

a slight wire trellis goes
and up this romeo's ladder
clambers a bold white rose;
i lounge in the ilex shadows,
i see the lady lean
unclasping her silken girdle,
the curtain folds between.

she smiles on her white rose lover,

she reaches out her hand.
and helps him in at the window,
i see it when i stand,
to her scarlet lips she holds him,
and kisses him many a time.
ah me! 'twas he that won her
because he dared to climb.
come, o come, my life's delight
--thomas campion (1567-1620)

come, o come, my life's delight!

let me not in languor pine:
love loves no delay, thy sight
the more enjoyed, the more divine.
o come, and take from me
the pain of being deprived of thee.

thou all sweetness dost enclose,

like a little world of bliss:
beauty guards thy looks: the rose
in them pure and eternal is.
come then! and make thy flight
as swift to me as heavenly light!
charm me asleep, and melt me so
robert herrick (1591-1674)

charm me asleep, and melt me so

with thy delicious numbers,
that, being ravish'd, hence i go
away in easy slumbers.
ease my sick head,
and make my bed,
thou power that canst sever
from me this ill,
and quickly still,
though thou not kill
my fever.

thou sweetly canst convert the same

from a consuming fire
into a gentle licking flame,
and make it thus expire.
then make me weep
my pains asleep;
and give me such reposes
that i, poor i,
may think thereby
i live and die
'mongst roses.

fall on me like a silent dew,

or like those maiden showers
which, by the peep of day, do strew
a baptism o'er the flowers
melt, melt my pains
with thy soft strains;
that, having ease me given,
with full delight
i leave this light,
and take my flight
for heaven.
matin song
by bayard taylor (1825-1878)

i let the dearest dream depart

that night to love revealed,
some eager spirit in my heart
my sleeping eyes unsealed.
yet still 'twas love that led me here
and bids my feet delay.
arise, and light the dawn, my dear!
look forth, look forth and bring the day.
as out of darkness yonder star
of whitest ray is born
as birds and blossoms feel afar
the coming of the morn,
so thou hast dawn'd, and now art near,
to brighten and to stay:
my being dies in thine, my dear!
as daybreak dies in day.
ecstasy s
by amy marcy cheney beach (1867-1944)

only to dream among the fading flowers,

only to glide along the tranquil sea;
ah dearest, dearest, have we not together
one long, bright day of love, glad and free?

only to rest through life, in storm and sunshine,

safe in thy breast, where sorrow dare not fly;
ah dearest, dearest, thus in sweetest rapture
with thee to live, with thee at last to die!
meeting s
by arthur farwell (1872-1952)

clasp me close upon thy breast,

heart on heart fast beating!
soul to soul in ecstasy
thrill'd in joyous greeting:
ah, thy burning lips to mine
give, o give for ever,
fear nor fate nor death shall hold
pow'r that kiss to sever.
deep within my thirsting soul
let thy gaze, descending,
wake to throbbing life at last,
wake to trembling love at last
heav'n that knows no ending.
at the mid hour of night

at the mid hour of night when stars are weeping, i fly

to the lonely vale we lov'd when life shone warm in thine eye;
and i think that if spirits can steal from the region of air,
to revisit past scenes of delight; thou wilt come to me there,
and tell me our love is remember'd even in the sky.

then i'll sing the wild song, which once 'twas rapture to hear,
when our voices, both mingling, breathed like one on the ear,
and, as echo far off thro' the vale my sad orison rolls,
i think, oh my love! 'tis thy voice from the kingdom of souls
faintly answering still the notes which once were so dear!
i gently touched her hand s
(anonymous, 18th century)

i gently touched her hand.

she gave a look that did my soul enslave;
i pressed her rebel lips in vain.
they rose to be pressed again.
thus happy, i no farther meant,
but to be pleased and innocent.
on her soft breasts my hand i laid,
and a quick, light impression made.
they with a kindly warmth did glow,
and swelled and seemed to overflow.
yet trust me, i no farther meant,
but to be pleased and innocent.

on her eyes my eyes did stay:

o'er her smooth limbs my hands did stray;
each sense was ravished with delight,
and my soul stood prepared for flight.
blame me not if at last i meant
more to be pleased than innocent.
there be none of beauty's daughters
george gordon noel byron, lord byron (1788-1824)

there be none of beauty's daughters

with a magic like thee;
and like music on the waters
is thy sweet voice to me:
when, as if its sound were causing
the charm�d ocean's pausing,
the waves lie still and gleaming,
and the lull'd winds seem dreaming:

and the midnight moon is weaving

her bright chain o'er the deep;
whose breast is gently heaving
as an infant's asleep:
so the spirit bows before thee,
to listen and adore thee;
with a full but soft emotion,
like the swell of summer's ocean.
whisper, wind
--nick peros

whisper, wind, softly touch my heart,

caress of summers dreaming and breath of heaven's joy
embrace my soul and soothe with flowing arms
my love for you
so strong and bright,
so green as i go in way of wond'rous life
in seas of endless sky
in dreams of breathless rain
i reach out and feel your warmth which falls on me
so clear and sweet,
so cool and blue
in leaves of gold so pure
shower of eternal lights
stream of sparkled time
come touch me
hold me close and hear my song of love to you
as outstretched arms reach to hold
and kiss you,
sweet breeze
i hear
you whisper, wind
softly to my heart.
in heaven (capri)
by caroline alice elgar (1848-1920)

closely let me hold thy hand,

storms are sweeping sea and land;
love alone will stand.

closely cling, for waves beat fast,

foam-flakes cloud the hurrying blast;
love alone will last.

kiss my lips, and softly say:

joy, sea-swept, may fade to-day;
love alone will stay.
you'll tell her, won't you?
by anonymous (written in 1862)

you'll tell her, won't you? say to her i died

as a brave soldier should - true to the last;
she'll bear it better if a thought of price
comes in to stay her, the first shock o'erpast!
you'll tell her, won't you? show her how i lay
pressing the pictured lips i loved so well;
and how my last thoughts floated far away,
to home and her, with love i could not tell.
you'll tell her, won't you? - not how hard it was
to give up life - for her sake so dear;
nay, nay, not so. say 'twas a noble cause,
and i did die for it without a tear.
you'll tell her, won't you? she'll be glad to know
her soldier stood undaunted, true as steel,
his heart with her, his bosom to the foe,
when the blow struck no human power could break.
you'll tell her, won't you? say, too, we shall meet
in god's hereafter, where our love shall grow
more holy for this parting, and more sweet,
and cleansed from every stain it knew below.
at the water's edge
by rene francois armand prudhomme (1839-1907)

to sit and watch the wavelets as they flow

two - side by side;
to see the gliding clouds that come and
and mark them glide;

if from low roofs the smoke is wreathing pale,

to watch it wreath;
if flowers around breathe perfume on the gale,
to feel them breathe;

if the bee sips the honeyed fruit that glistens,

to sip the dew;
if the bird warbles while the forest listens,
to listen too;

beneath the willow where the brook is singing,

to hear its song;
nor feel, while round us that sweet dream is clinging
the hours too long;

to know one only deep over mastering passion -

the love we share;
to let the world go worrying in its fashion
without one care -

we only, while around all weary grow,

unwearied stand,
and midst the fickle changes others know,
love - hand in hand.
if one chaste love
by michelangelo buonarroti (1475-1564)

if one chaste love, if one divine compassion,

if one destiny is equal for two lovers,
if one hard fate of the one is felt by the other,
if one spirit, if one will guides two hearts;
if one soul in two bodies makes itself eternal,
lifting both to heaven with a single wing,
if love in one blow and one golden arrow
the hearts in two chests can burn and tear;
if the one loves the other and neither loves himself,
with one pleasure and one delight, to such a measure
that one and the other desire to reach a single end:
thousands and thousands would not make a hundredth
of such a knot of love, or of such a faith:
and only anger could break and untie it.
to mary
by samuel lover (1797-1868

as in the calmest day the pine-tree gives

a soft low murmur to the wooing wind,
when other trees are silent�so love lives
in the close covert of the loftier mind,
responding to the gentlest sigh would wake
love's answer, and his magic music make.

'twas thus i woo'd thee�softly and afraid:

for no rude breath could win response from thee,
mine own retiring, timid, bashful maid;
and hence i dedicate the slender tree
to dearest memories of the tenting fine
i woo'd thee with�as zephyr woos the pine.

and hence i love with thee through woods to wander,

whose fairy flowers thy slight foot scarcely bends,
growing, as time steals o'er us, only fonder,
following, mayhap, some streamlet as it tends
to a lone lake�full as our hearts, and calm,
o'er which the op'ning summer sheds its balm.

soft is the breeze;�so soft�the very lake

hath not a ripple on its mirror face;
and hence, a double beauty doth it make,
another forest in its depths we trace,
the sky's repeated in reflected kiss:�
so loving hearts can double ev'ry bliss.

the sun is high�we seek refreshing shade,

beneath the pines we choose a flowery seat;
and, while a whisper in their boughs is made,
couching, with fondness, at thy tiny feet,
i'll whisper thee, while sheltering from the sun�
"sweet mary, thus i woo'd thee, thus i won."
from �torrismond� - in a garden by moonlight
by thomas lovell beddoes (1803-1849)

how many times do i love thee, dear?

tell me how many thoughts there be
in the atmosphere
of a new-fall�n year,
whose white and sable hours appear
the latest flake of eternity:
so many times do i love thee, dear.

how many times do i love again?

tell me how many beads there are
in a silver chain
of evening rain,
unravell�d from the tumbling main,
and threading the eye of a yellow star:
so many times do i love again.
by victor james daley (1858-1905)

when trees in spring

are blossoming
my lady wakes
from dreams whose light
made dark days bright,
for their sweet sakes.

yet in her eyes

a shadow lies
of bygone mirth;
and still she seems
to walk in dreams,
and not on earth.

some men may hold

that hair of gold
is lovelier
than darker sheen:
they have not seen
my lady�s hair.

her eyes are bright,

her bosom white
as the sea foam
on sharp rocks sprayed;
her mouth is made
of honeycomb.

and whoso seeks

in her dusk cheeks
may see love�s sign�
a blush that glows
like a red rose
beneath brown wine.

chloe found amyntas lying

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