Friday, November 27, 2009

where love is, no room is too small.


Sonnet XLIII, from the Portuguese.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning - 1806-1861

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee 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 thee to the level of everyday'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.

when my heart begins to stretch and the room is never too small and everything feels like the movies. and love songs are caresses to music. and i don't understand. then, i'll sit down and write my own rendition.

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