How do I love thee?

I cannot woo thee as the lion his mate,

With proud parade and fierce prestige of presence;

Nor thy fleet fancy may I captivate

With pastoral attitudes in flowery pleasance;

Nor will I kneeling court thee with sedate

And comfortable plans of husbandhood;

Nor file before thee as a candidate...

I cannot woo thee as a lover would.

To wrest thy hand from rivals, iron-gloved,

Or cheat them by craft, I am not clever.

But I do love thee even as Shakespeare loved,

Most gently wild, and desperately for ever,

Full-hearted, grave, and manfully in vain,

With thought, high pain, and ever vaster pain.