'TIS not her birth, her friends, nor yet her treasure, Nor do I covet her for sensual pleasure, Nor for that old morality Do I love her, 'cause she loves me. Sure he that loves his lady 'cause she's fair, Delights his eye, so loves himself, not her. Something there is moves me to love, and I Do know I love, but know not how, nor why. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COMMEMORATION ODE READ AT HARVARD UNIVERSITY by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE CORAL GROVE by JAMES GATES PERCIVAL SING-SONG; A NURSERY RHYME BOOK: 48 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI EARLY RISING by JOHN GODFREY SAXE MICHAELMASSE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE LAST MAN: SUBTERRANEAN CITY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES |