A while ago, one of my friends said that this particular sonnet makes her vomit with how saccharine and overdone it is. As you could probably guess, this is not an opinion I share, given my choice to analyze it. I hope in this analysis to show why it should not be disdained, but rather is done a disservice by its iconic status, which causes people to underestimate it because of how famous its opening line has become. Without further ado, Elizabeth Barrett Browning's sonnet 43 from "Sonnets from the Portuguese": "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways."
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 everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
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 thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Triumphs:
Look beyond the first line (which is actually a lovely line itself, but has probably become too cliche to stand on its own anymore). This sonnet sets up a question in the first line, and it answers that question beautifully. That first answer: "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" is gorgeous. The pacing of the lines - both of the line breaks and the feeling of near-end-stopping despite the enjambment - produces a tumble over of emotion from line to line as the reader looks for the answer. The initial line in this answer is simply wonderful: it expresses totality (the depth and breadth and height) while keeping the suspense built into the initial question by not answering the obvious "of what?" question. Barrett Browning here manages a tricky tightrope: having the set up only take one line, but not allowing the response to feel finished too early. By having that first answer spill over three lines, and with the pacing she establishes in it, she allows the poem to safely pass over the danger of turning into a mere couplet or quatrain. If she had jumped, say, to "I love thee freely, as men strive for Right," the poem would lose momentum; because she goes immediately into a long answer, and then further into another multi-line answer ("I love thee to the level of everyday's/Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight") she gives the poem the space to build that momentum up.
The turn is also highly effective: moving from general adverbial description (I love thee in this way or this much) to specific methodological description (I love thee using this passion), both of which answer the question "how" but in subtly different ways. The turn also builds towards the eventual finish of loving after death by allowing the move to "of all my life" which in turn moves towards death. So formally, the poem has a strong flow that has been very effectively managed.
Aesthetically, it also has strong appeal. There is a strong mix of end-stopping and enjambment throughout, as noted above. The diction is also extremely interesting: the mixture of abstractions (Right, Grace, Being, Praise) and then intensely personal moments (the breath/Smiles, tears of all my life) is effective in conveying the breadth of the affect being demonstrated, while the timely repetitions of "I love thee" anchor the poem. It is a powerful poem expressing its object of universal love.
Imperfections:
Most of the quibbles with this poem rely on two points: it is cliched, and it is saccharine. The cliched quality of the poem, however, is entirely a result of its success: "how do I love thee? Let me count the ways" was not a cliche when Barrett Browning wrote it, but rather has become one from this sonnet. As for the saccharine issue, it is a love sonnet, so there is always that risk. But personally, that overly sugary quality in poetry results primarily from chiming rhymes, too much end-stopping, and overly repetitive diction, particularly overly regular repetitive diction. All of these things are problems I may be guilty of in many of my poems, but are not things this poem is guilty of. Rather, I believe the issue with this poem is simply that it has been too successful: it has been imitated, quoted, and parodied so much that the fundamental beauty there is to some extent lost.
That does not mean it is a perfect poem. There are slant rhymes that although they make the poem less sugary and chimey, are also less pleasing: faith and breath is I think the worst. The three straight lines around the turn beginning "I love thee" are a little overdone. But overall, the poem is extremely powerful, and I think only undone by being, in a sense, too good of an expression of its object.
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