'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...MODULATIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON OWL AGAINST ROBIN by SIDNEY LANIER TO CARMEN SYLVA (QUEEN OF ROUMANIA) by EMMA LAZARUS THE COTTON CLUB by CLARENCE MAJOR VICTORY IN DEFEAT by EDWIN MARKHAM |