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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539310" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Song XI. - Perhaps it is not love</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539310" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Perhaps it is not love, said I,<br>That melts my soul when Flavia's nigh;<br>Where wit and sense like hers agree,<br>One may be pleased, and yet be free.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539310" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The beauties of her polish'd mind<br>It needs no lover's eye to find;<br>The hermit freezing in his cell<br>Might wish the gentle Flavia well.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539310" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">It is not love-averse to bear<br>The servile chain that lovers wear;<br>Let, let me all my fears remove,<br>My doubts dispel-it is not love.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539310" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Oh! when did wit so brightly shine<br>In any form less fair than thine?<br>It is-it is love's subtle fire,<br>And under friendship lurks desire.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=William+Shenstone">William Shenstone</a></strong></div>

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