Love

We cannot live, except thus mutually
We alternate, aware or unaware,
The reflex act of life: and when we bear
Our virtue onward most impulsively,
Most full of invocation, and to be
Most instantly compellant, certes, there
We live most life, whoever breathes most air
And counts his dying years by sun and sea.
But when a soul, by choice and conscience, doth
Throw out her full force on another soul,
The conscience and the concentration both make
mere life, Love. For Life in perfect whole
And aim consummated, is Love in sooth,
As nature's magnet-heat rounds pole with pole.

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Comments (10)

The most precious place of love in a life, particularly human life, has been marvelously revealed in this beautiful love song.
A perfectly pertinent poem from the pen of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, during this season of love!
Innovative! ! ! ! Invocation. Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
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A lovely poem on love by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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