1. Sonnet #43, Bright Star,...
From the
Bright Star, would I were
Portuguese stedfast as thou art -
Not in lone splendour hung
How do I love thee? Let me aloft the night
count the ways. And watching, with eternal
I love thee to the depth and lids apart,
breadth and height Like nature's patient,
my soul can reach, when sleepless Eremite,
feeling out of sight The moving waters at their
For the ends of Being and priestlike task
ideal Grace. Of pure ablution round
I love thee to the level of earth's human shores,
everyday's Or gazing on the new soft-
Most quiet need, by sun and fallen mask
candlelight. Of snow upon the
I love thee freely, as men mountains and the moors -
strive for Right; No - yet still stedfast, still
I love thee purely, as they unchangeable,
turn from Praise. Pillow'd upon my fair love's
I love thee with passion put ripening breast,
to use To feel for ever its soft fall
In my old griefs, and with and swell,
my childhood's faith. Awake for ever in a sweet
I love thee with a love I unrest,
seemed to lose Still, still to hear her tender-
With my lost saints, - I love taken breath,
thee with the breath, And so live ever - or else
Smiles, tears, of all my life! - swwon to death.
and, if God choose,
I shall but thee better after