My True Love Hath My Heart and I Have HisNone ever was in love with me but grief.She wooed me from the day that I was born;She stole my playthings first, the jealous thief,And left me there forlorn.The birds that in my garden would have sung,She scared away with her unending moan;She slew my lovers too when I was young,And left me there alone.Grief, I have cursed thee often—now at lastTo hate thy name I am no longer free;Caught in thy bony arms and prisoned fast,I love no love but thee.
-Mary Elizabeth Coleridge
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