I would Love you ten years before the Flood, And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews. The grave 's a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace. Leaving thee living in posterity? That use is not forbidden usury, Which happies those that pay the willing loan; That's for thyself to breed another thee, Or ten times happier, be it ten for one; Ten times thyself were happier than thou art, If ten of thine ten times refigured thee: There came a companion to her, But, alas, he was no help, For his name was heart's pain. The rocks cut her tender feet, And the brambles tore her fair limbs. I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story-- An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. But when I told the cruel scorn That crazed that bold and lovely Knight, And that he crossed the mountain-woods, Nor rested day nor night ; That sometimes from the savage den, And sometimes from the darksome shade, And sometimes starting up at once In green and sunny glade,-- There came and looked him in the face An angel beautiful and bright ; And that he knew it was a Fiend, This miserable Knight!
She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes, and modest grace ; And she forgave me, that I gazed Too fondly on her face! If all were minded so, the times should cease And threescore year would make the world away. Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir. My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires, and more slow; An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze; Two hundred to adore each breast, But thirty thousand to the rest; An age at least to every part, And the last age should show your heart. I loved long and long, And grew to be out of fashion Like an old song. The grave 's a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace. She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace ; For well she know, I could not choose But gaze upon her face. Her bosom heaved--she stepped aside, As conscious of my look she stepped-- The suddenly, with timorous eye She fled to me and wept. Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart. Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars, And all thy heart lies open unto me. Thou by the Indian Ganges' side Shouldst rubies find: Popular Love Poems All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. And that unknowing what he did, He leaped amid a murderous band, And saved from outrage worse than death The Lady of the Land! There came a companion to her, But, alas, he was no help, For his name was heart's pain. Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me. I told her how he pined: Leaving thee living in posterity? She leant against the arm? She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die. Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse The bounteous largess given thee to give? All through the years of our youth Neither could have known Their own thought from the other's, We were so much at one. So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip Into my bosom and be lost in me. Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, And slips into the bosom of the lake: Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost, And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. But O, in a minute she changed - O do not love too long, Or you will grow out of fashion Like an old song. I by the tide Of Humber would complain. Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run.
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