I DO not love you very much, Only your tuneful voice, Which, in a happy moment, takes The music of my choice. I do not love you, dear, at all, Only your merry ways, Which linger in my mind, and set Me dreaming through the days. In truth, I think it is dislike You kindle in my heart, Because you come so joyously To steal so large a part. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPECIAL PLEADING by SIDNEY LANIER SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 32 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING A FOREST HYMN by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: COMMON FORM by RUDYARD KIPLING |