How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count The Ways...
Nevermind, there's not that many.
Your form is as good as any.
And your eyes, they're not spectacular.
In words, they'd be vernacular.
Though green and stunning,
And sharp and cunning,
They're simply not spectacular.
I love your smile,
Or is it vile?
Or is it something else?
Else or vile, I love that smile;
I love it for its wealth.
And your hair, needless to say,
Will someday be patchy and gray.
But nevertheless I love it today.
I'll love you today,
But never tomorrow,
So laugh your soul and cry your sorrow,
Before I go away.
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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