by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Nay, dearest Anna! why so grave?
I said, you had no soul, 'tis true!
For what you are, you cannot have:
'Tis I, that have one since I first had you!
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I have heard of reasons manifold
Why Love must needs be blind,
But this the best of all I hold--
His eyes are in his mind.
What outward form and feature are
He guesseth but in part;
But what within is good and fair
He seeth with the heart.
Last updated January 14, 2019