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This was written by John Keats in 1817 or 1818, and, although he was certainly unaware, there is an uncanny similarity to Byron's "To Caroline." This is quite possibly Keats' earliest believable love poem.

You say you love; but with a voice

You say you love; but with a voice
Chaster than a nun's, who singeth
The soft vespers to herself
While the chime-bell ringeth--
O love me truly!

You say you love; but with a smile
Cold as sunrise in September,
As you were Saint Cupid's nun,
And kept his weeks of Ember--
O love me truly!

You say you love; but then your lips
Coral tinted teach no blisses,
More coral in the sea--
They never pout for kisses--
O love me truly!

You say you love; but then your hand
No soft squeeze for squeeze returneth;
It is like a statue's, dead,--
While mine for passion burneth--
O love me truly!

O breathe a word or two of fire!
Smile, as if those words should burn me,
Squeeze as lovers should--O kiss
And in thy heart inurn me--
O love me truly!

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