The most romantic love poems


Love is a Sickness

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Love is a sickness full of woes,
  All remedies refusing;
A plant that most with cutting grows,
  Most barren with best using.
            Why so?
More we enjoy it, more it dies,
  If not enjoyed, it sighing cries,
            Heigh-ho!

Love is a torment of the mind,
  A tempest everlasting;
And Jove hath made it of a kind
  Not well, nor full nor fasting.
            Why so?
More we enjoy it, more it dies,
  If not enjoyed, it sighing cries,
            Heigh-ho!

Samuel Daniel (1562 – 1619)


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