Love Poems

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 than 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 to 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!

John Keats (1795-1821)