Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

Smiles, tears, of all my life! - and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

And friends, dear friends,--when it shall be That this low breath is gone from me, And gone my bier ye come to weep, Let One, most loving of you all, Say, "Not a tear must o'er her fall; He giveth His beloved sleep."

Thank God for grace, Ye who weep only! If, as some have done, Ye grope tear-blinded in a desert place And touch but tombs,--look up! Those tears will run Soon in long rivers down the lifted face, And leave the vision clear for stars and sun.