Tuesday, February 14, 2012

A Perfect Romance…


Jack Dikian
February 2012

I love your verses with all my heart, dear Miss Barrett …” writes Robert Browning and so begins the first love letter to his future wife Elizabeth Barrett. And, Barrett writes, after meeting Browning, “How Do I Love Thee? Let me count the ways.” - A poem I first read at University and it has remained with me ever since (see entire sonnet below).

This, and another 43 poems became Sonnets from the Portuguese written by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Robert Browning often called his wife "my little Portuguese", because of her dark complexion and thus the title.

After more than a year of almost daily letters between them, the couple married in secret in September 1846, defying her father’s prohibition against her ever marrying. They fled from London to Italy, where doctors had told Barrett her health might improve. Her father disinherited her and never spoke to her again.


Now, their famous love letters are available online (see link below) where readers can see them just as they were written with creased paper, fading ink, quill pen cross outs, and even the envelopes the two poets used. The digitization is a collaboration between Wellesley College and Baylor University in Waco, Texas, which houses the world's largest collection of books, letters and other items related to the Brownings.


Readers can see for themselves how they fall in love, while corresponding about other writers, philosophy and their own work.

http://digitalcollections.baylor.edu/cdm/landingpage/collection/ab-letters

Sonnets from the Portuguese, #43
by Elizabeth Barrett-Browning (1850)


How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints — I love with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! — and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.


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