HENRY W. LONGFELLOW 
165 
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 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. 
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 1807 — 1882 
A Psalm of Life 
Tell me not, in mournful numbers, 
Life is but an empty dream! — 
For the soul is dead that slumbers 
■ And tilings are not what they seem. 
Life is real! Life is earnest! 
And the grave is not its goal; 
Dust thou art, to dust returnest, 
Was not spoken of the soul. 
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow. 
Is our destined end or way; 
But to act, that each to-morrow 
Find us farther than to-day. 
