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