Love

Poem By Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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.

Comments about Love

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. love and romantic. well portrayed. tony
For Life in perfect whole And aim consummated, is Love in sooth, As nature's magnet-heat rounds pole with pole. very fine poem. tony
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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Other poems of 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.

Comfort

SPEAK low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet
From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low
Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so
Who art not missed by any that entreat.

Sonnet 43 - How Do I Love Thee? Let Me Count The Ways

XLIII

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

Sonnet 14 - If Thou Must Love Me, Let It Be For Nought

XIV

If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only. Do not say

From ‘the Soul’s Travelling’

God, God!
With a child’s voice I cry,
Weak, sad, confidingly—
God, God!

Discontent

LIGHT human nature is too lightly tost
And ruffled without cause, complaining on--
Restless with rest, until, being overthrown,
It learneth to lie quiet. Let a frost