I love thee to the level of every day's Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love with a 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! Viewed thru the prism of our post-modern world, I see this love poem full of snark; written on a lark- it ends on a note dark enough to make my skin curl.
This is an almost idolatrous love — she equates her love with that of the soul devoted to the search for the divine. She focuses her love from several sources into a pure intense flame of total devotion.
What man could stand such a flame I do not know! This is a passionate woman — she does not mention physical love yet one can infer that it is included in this love, though subject to it. This love will continue past the age of sexual desire. Anyone who is truly in love with their spouse will take this as their own.
Probally one of my favorite poems I've ever heard before in my life. It's a really beautiful and peaceful poem. I love it. This is one of the best poems ever written, the expression of affection has nothing confusing or contradictory about it. This is because we need to know who you are and how we can talk to you, and where to send your competition resource pack if you are eligible to take part in the competition. Registration takes a minute or two.
We only collect the information we need to run the competition and we will not give it to anyone else without your express permission. 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 freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. 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. The point about its use at weddings today is not a flippant one. How Do I Love Thee? Sonnet This poem is in the public domain. My Letters! Sonnet 28 My letters! And yet they seem alive and quivering Against my tremulous hands which loose the string And let them drop down on my knee tonight.
This said—he wished to have me in his sight Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring To come and touch my hand. This said, I am thine —and so its ink has paled With lying at my heart that beat too fast.
And this. Elizabeth Barrett Browning Beloved, my Beloved Sonnet 20 Beloved, my Beloved, when I think That thou wast in the world a year ago, What time I sate alone here in the snow And saw no footprint, heard the silence sink No moment at thy voice Wonderful, Never to feel thee thrill the day or night With personal act or speech,—nor ever cull Some prescience of thee with the blossoms white Thou sawest growing!
Atheists are as dull, Who cannot guess God's presence out of sight. When our two souls In mounting higher, The angels would press on us and aspire To drop some golden orb of perfect song Into our deep, dear silence. How Much? How much do you love me, a million bushels? Oh, a lot more than that, Oh, a lot more. And to-morrow maybe only half a bushel? To-morrow maybe not even a half a bushel.
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