What is true love, a question many ponder. True love may mean different things to different people. Let John Imrie's poem give you thoughts on the answer to the question of what is true love!
'Tis a magic spell,
Which lovers know well,
In sunshine and shower the same;
Ever old, yet new,
Both constant and true,
And seeks neither self nor fame.
Unheard or confest,
As seemeth it best,
Its tale it may never unfold;
Yet all know the pow'r
Of Love's happy hour,
Its memory never grows old!
'Tis a golden key.
Be it sigh or plea,
That opens the door of the heart;
And treasures untold
Doth ever unfold,
Which riches could never impart.
Then cherish with care
A jewel so rare,
And dim not its lustre with scorn;
'Twill lighten the gloom
From cradle, to tomb,
And heal the heart bleeding and torn.
Love never can die.
Its home is on high,
And God will yet claim what He gives;
And love He hath giv'n.
To make earth a heav'n.
True love in the heart ever lives!
You may also enjoy these poems about love by John Imrie:
Love's Progress
Poet: John Imrie
We met, but not as strangers meet,
In busy mart, or crowded street,
No hurried glance could well suffice
To meet the gaze of Love's surprise;
That look a " tale of old " reveal'd,
Which would not, could not, be conceal'd,
And well bespoke love's sweet content,
Though speechless on our way we went.
Again we met - not like the past, -
The spell of Love had now been cast;
Still, words refused to tell the tale
Which redden'd cheeks that erst were pale.
And fluttered hearts with new-bom joy.
And gave our thoughts such sweet employ;
We smiled, and often met to smile,
And thus did Love our hearts beguile.
At last I spoke, in hope and fear,
A few short words, deep, true, sincere;
Then love in transport met the gaze
Of love return 'd 'mid glad amaze;
Her stammering tones, and modest start,
Answered the gladness in my heart;
I kissed joy's tear from off her face,
And clasp'd her in my warm embrace.
We loved, and love still dwells secure,
And shall while life and love endure;
Our love is sweet, and all is well,
For in each other's hearts we dwell;
Like streams which meet and onward glide.
Till lost in ocean's boundless tide,
We two have met no more to part,
For Love hath join'd us heart to heart!
The Lover's Ideal
Poet: John Imrie
I know a face - a lovely face,
'Tis imag'd on my heart,
Whose form is one of matchless grace,
From her I'll never part.
I know a voice of sweetest tone,
That speaks in accents low.
Yet has a power all its own
To make my heart o'erflow.
I know a place where lovers meet,
There Nature reigns supreme,
'Tis there we hold our converse sweet,
Love is our only theme.
I know a heart whose depth of love
Time, life, nor death can measure,
Next to my hope of bliss above
I value this dear treasure.
I heard a vow - a solemn vow,
'Twas registered in heaven:
That all our future life from now
Shall to our love be given.
I know a home - a happy home.
By love 'tis daily lighted,
Where kindred hearts ne'er seek to roam
Since by their vows united!
