Her attachment may differ from yours in degree,
 Provided they are both of one kind;
But Friendship, how tender so ever it be,
 Gives no accord to Love, however refined.
Love, that meets not with Love, its true nature revealing,
 Grows ashamed of itself, and demurs:
If you cannot lift hers up to your state of feeling,
 You must lower down your state to hers.
Other Samuel Taylor Coleridge songs:
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