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The Poetry Pages

Love (2)

And when, with weariness oppressed:
I sink in spite of you to rest,
Your image, like a lovely sprite,
Haunts me in dreams through half the night.
-- Robert Fuller Murray. Love's Phantom.

If the merest dream of love were true
Then, sweet, we should be in heaven,
And this is only earth, my dear,
Where true love is not given.
-- Elizabeth Siddall. Dead Love.

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