Indeed this very love which is my boast, <br />And which, when rising up from breast to brow, <br />Doth crown me with ruby large enow <br />To draw men's eyes and prove the inner cost,-- <br />This love even, all my worth, to the uttermost, <br />I should not love withal, unless that thou <br />Hadst set me an example, shown me how, <br />When first thine earnest eyes with mine were crossed, <br />And love called love. And thus, I cannot speak <br />Of love even, as good thing of my own: <br />Thy soul hath snatched up mine all faint and weak, <br />And placed it by thee on a golden throne,-- <br />And that I love (O soul, we must be meek--) <br />Is by thee only, whom I love alone.<br /><br />Elizabeth Barrett Browning<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xii-indeed-this-very-love/
