How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

Until the lengthening wings break into fireAt either curved point,–what bitter wrongCan the earth do to us, that we should not longBe here contented ? Think. In mounting higher,The angels would press on us and aspireTo drop some golden orb of perfect songInto our deep, dear silence. Let us stayRather on earth, Beloved,–where the unfitContrarious…

Spreading ruin and scattering ban,Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat,And breaking the golden lilies afloatWith the dragon-fly on the river.He tore out a reed, the great god Pan,From the deep cool bed of the river:The limpid water turbidly ran,And the broken lilies a-dying lay,And the dragon-fly had fled away,Ere he brought it out…

As these you see, and trembling knees that failTo bear the burden of a heavy heart,–This weary minstrel-life that once was girtTo climb Aornus, and can scarce availTo pipe now ‘gainst the valley nightingaleA melancholy music,–why advertTo these things ? O Beloved, it is plainI am not of thy worth nor for thy place !And…

Except for love’s sake only. Do not say‘I love her for her smile—her look—her wayOf speaking gently,—for a trick of thoughtThat falls in well with mine, and certes broughtA sense of pleasant ease on such a day’—For these things in themselves, Beloved, mayBe changed, or change for thee,—and love, so wrought,May be unwrought so. Neither…

From year to year until I saw thy face,And sorrow after sorrow took the placeOf all those natural joys as lightly wornAs the stringed pearls, each lifted in its turnBy a beating heart at dance-time. Hopes apaceWere changed to long despairs, till God’s own graceCould scarcely lift above the world forlornMy heavy heart. Then thou…

‘I love her for her smile–her look–her wayOf speaking gently,–for a trick of thoughtThat falls in well with mine, and certes broughtA sense of pleasant ease on such a day’–For these things in themselves, Beloved, mayBe changed, or change for thee–and love, so wrought,May be unwrought so. Neither love me forThine own dear pity’s wiping…