For this is love and nothing else is love,
To which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends he will,
But which it only needs that we fulfill.
For this is love and nothing else is love,
To which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends he will,
But which it only needs that we fulfill.
Well, at least
I didn't use it out of love of him,
The dear knows.
But whether or not a man was asked
To mar the love of two
By harboring woe in the bridal house,
The bridegroom wished he knew.
Love at the lips was touch As sweet as I could bear And once that seemed too much I lived on air.
You don't have to deserve your mother's love. You have to deserve your father's.
Two that don't love can't live together without them.
Not yesterday I learned to know
The love of bare November days
Before the coming of the snow,
But it were vain to tell he so,
And they are better for her praise.
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound By countless silken ties of love and thought To everything on earth the compass round, And only by one's going slightly taut In the capriciousness of summer air Is of the slightest bondage made aware.
Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired.
A poet never takes notes. You never take notes in a love affair.
Ah, when to the heart of man Was it ever less than a treason To go with the drift of things, To yield with a grace to reason, And bow and accept the end Of a love or a season.
It should be of the pleasure of a poem itself to tell how it can. The figure a poem makes. It begins in delight and ends in wisdom. The figure is the same for love.
He was a winter wind,
Concerned with ice and snow,
Dead weeds and unmated birds,
And little of love could know.
Lovers, forget your love,
And list to the love of these,
She a window flower,
And he a winter breeze.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories