Oh! when my lady
comes, And I with love behold her, I
take
her to my beating heart And in my arms
enfold her; My heart is filled with
joy
divine For I am hers and she is
mine. Oh! when her soft embraces
Do
give my love completeness, The
perfumes of
Arabia Anoint me with their
sweetness; And when her lips are
pressed to
mine I am made drunk and need not
wine.
The Garden Of Love"
Oh! fair are the
flowers,
my beloved, And fairest of any I
wait. A
garden art thou, all fragrant and
dear, Thy
heart, O mine own, is the gate. The
canal
of my love I have fashioned, And
through
thee, my garden, it flows- Dip in its
waters refreshing and sweet, When cool
from
the north the wind blows. In our
beauteous
haunt we will linger, Thy strong hand
reposing in mine- Then deep be my
thoughts
and deeper my joy, Because, O my love,
I am
thine. Oh!thy voice is bewitching,
beloved, This wound of my heart it
makes
whole- Ah! when thou art coming, and
thee I
behold, Thou'rt bread and thou'rt wine
to
my soul. "Love's
Pretence
With sickness
faint a
weary All day in bed I'll lie; My
friends
will gather near me And she'll with
them
come nigh. She'll put to shame the
doctors Who'll ponder over me, For
she
alone, my loved one, Knows well my
malady.
Seven Days and I've not seen my lady love. A sickness has shot through me. I have become sluggish, And I have forgotten my own body. If the best surgeons come to me, My heart will not be comforted with their remedies. My lady love is more remedial than any potion; She's better than the whole book of medical lore. If I see her, then I'll be well....
The mouth of my girl is a lotus bud,
Her breasts are mandrake apples,
Her arms are viones,
Her eyes are fixed like berries,
Her brow a snare of willow, and I the wild goose!"
