“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love tee to the depth, and breadth, and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love the to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints – I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! And, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.”
I love tee to the depth, and breadth, and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love the to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints – I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! And, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.”
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
“Love vaunteth not itself . . . seeketh not its own . . . beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. love never faileth.”
I Cor. xiii
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