After Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s Sonnet XLIII
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
This beer can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Bottle and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday’s
Most thirsty need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as brewers strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a thirst put to use
In my old griefs, and with my adolescence’s tastes.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, — I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of my beer life! — and, if God choose,
I shall drink naught but thee unto death.