Sonnet XLIII

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 with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love 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 Barret,
Sonnets from the Portuguese