Elizabeth Barrett Browning

(6 March 1806 – 29 June 1861 / Durham / England)

Elizabeth Barrett Browning Poems

161. Sonnet Xxxv 12/31/2002
162. Sonnet Xxxv: If I Leave All For Thee 1/3/2003
163. Sonnet Xxxvi 12/31/2002
164. Sonnet Xxxvi: When We Met First 1/3/2003
165. Sonnet Xxxvii 12/31/2002
166. Sonnet Xxxvii: Pardon, Oh, Pardon 1/3/2003
167. Sonnet Xxxviii 12/31/2002
168. Sonnet Xxxviii: First Time He Kissed Me 1/3/2003
169. Sonnets From The Portuguese I 1/4/2003
170. Sonnets From The Portuguese Ii 1/4/2003
171. Sonnets From The Portuguese Iii 1/4/2003
172. Sonnets From The Portuguese Iv 1/4/2003
173. Sonnets From The Portuguese V 1/4/2003
174. Stanzas On The Death Of Lord Byron 3/24/2012
175. Substitution 5/12/2001
176. Tears 5/12/2001
177. The Autumn 5/12/2001
178. The Best Thing In The World 12/31/2002
179. The Cry Of The Children 12/31/2002
180. The Deserted Garden 5/12/2001
181. The House Of Clouds 5/13/2001
182. The Lady's Yes 5/13/2001
183. The Landing Of The Pilgrim Fathers 1/3/2003
184. The Look 5/13/2001
185. The Meaning Of The Look 5/13/2001
186. The Poet And The Bird 5/13/2001
187. The Prisoner 5/13/2001
188. The Runaway Slave At Pilgrim's Point 12/31/2002
189. The Seraph And Poet 5/13/2001
190. The Soul's Expression 5/13/2001
191. The Two Sayings 5/13/2001
192. The Weakest Thing 12/31/2002
193. To 5/13/2001
194. To Flush, My Dog 5/13/2001
195. To George Sand: A Desire 5/13/2001
196. To George Sand: A Recognition 5/13/2001
197. V 5/13/2001
198. Vi 5/13/2001
199. Vii 5/13/2001
200. Viii 5/13/2001
Best Poem of Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How Do I Love Thee?

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 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 ...

Read the full of How Do I Love Thee?


The first time that the sun rose on thine oath
To love me, I looked forward to the moon
To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon
And quickly tied to make a lasting troth.
Quick-loving hearts, I thought, may quickly loathe;
And, looking on myself, I seemed not one
For such man's love !--more like an out-of-tune
Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth
To spoil his song with, and which, snatched in haste,

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