Author Mary Elizabeth Coleridge I HAVE more sorrow, dearest, in thy love — Than ever I knew happiness thereby. Joy was the promise, out of reach — above. — The sorrow is fulfilment — and I die. Tags Short Poems love poem love poems love poems for her love poetry poems about love romantic poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments