I love you,

Not only for what you are,

But for what I am

When I am with you.



I love you,

Not only for what

You have made of myself,

But for what

You are making of me.



I love you

For the part of me

That you bring out;

I love you

For putting your hand

Into my heaped-up heart

And passing over

All the foolish, weak things

That you can't help

Dimly seeing there,

And for drawing out

Into the light

All the beautiful belongings

That no one else had looked

Quiet far enough to find.



I love you because you

Are helping me to make

Of the lumber of my life

Not a tavern

But a temple;

Out of the works

Of every day

Not a reproach

But a song.



I love you

Because you have done

More than any creed

Could have done

To make me good,

And more than any fate

Could have done

To make me happy.



You have done it

Without a touch,

Without a word,

Without a sing.

You have done it

By being yourself.

Perhaps that is what

Being a friend means,

After all.