The more he wrote, the more unmoved was I
The more he gave, the less could I repay
Therefore I grieve, not that i was not loved,
but that, being loved, i could not love again
i liked, but like & love are far removed
had though i tried to love, i tried in vain
for he was plain & lame & fat and short
forty is over-kind, hence it befell
that though i loved him, in a certain sort,
yet did i love to wisely but not well
Ah! had he been more handsome or less kind
he might have found me of another mind.
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