WHAT IS MY LIFE WITHOUT THIS LOVE

“no.”
“what about if it’s frozen?”
“it’d just break, love.”
“oh.”
“you could staple a bag of water to the tree, but then you’d be stapling the bag, not the water.”
“you’re right.”
“I’m always right.”

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 purely, as they turn from Praise.
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 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.