Meme gacked from almost everybody:

When you see this, post a bit of poetry in your own journal.

Only God, my dear
Could love you for yourself alone,
And not your yellow hair.

Also gacked from almost everybody: the 'forget 'a bit', post a whole poem' addendum.

The Devil is a gentleman, and asks you down to stay
At his little place in What'sitsname (it isn't far away)
They say the sport is splendid; there is always something new,
And fairy scenes, and feathered feats that none but he can do;
He can shoot the feathered cherubs if they fly on the estate
Or fish for Father Neptune with the mermaids for a bait:
He scaled amid the staggering stars that precipice, the sky
And blew his trumpet above heaven; and got by mastery
The starry crown of God Himself, and shoved it on the shelf;
But the Devil is a gentleman and doesn't brag himself.

O blind your eyes and break your heart and hack your hand away
And lose your love and shave your head; but do not go to stay
At the little place in What'sitsname where folks are rich and clever
The golden and the goodly house, where things grow worse for ever
There are things you need not know of, though you live and die in vain
There are souls more sick of pleasure than you are sick of pain
There is a game of April Fool that's played behind its door,
Where the fool remains for ever and the April comes no more,
Where the splendour of the daylight grows drearier than the dark;
And life droops like a vulture that once was such a lark;
And that is the Blue Devil that once was the Blue Bird;
For the Devil is a gentleman, and doesn't keep his word.

(W. B. Yeats, 'For Anne Gregory'; G. K. Chesterton, 'The Aristocrat'.)