Of Ebb and Flow

Now, how do I know it wasn't love what I felt?
I loved her smile. And her beautiful eyes. The softness of her skins, the blond of her hair.
I loved her company, her body, her smile. The kindness of her spirit, her poetic demeanor. Her frail frame of bold thinking. Her obstinate bites and her healing lips.
But I didn't love her.
I didn't love her for her, for what she is and what she does.
Now I understand why it ended this cold, starless, meaningless and foolish way.
It wasn't love, for love is meant to last. To endure. Ebb and flow. The answer, I found out, was brimming in my own mouth.
Half a cheer for that kind but faint feeling that did not last.

If thou must love me, let it be for nought

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

If thou must love me, let it be for nought
Except for love's sake only.  Do not say
"I love her for her smile—her look—her way
Of speaking gently,—for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day"—
For these things in themselves, Beloved, may
Be changed, or change for thee,—and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so.  Neither love me for
Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheeks dry,—
A creature might forget to weep, who bore
Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!
But love me for love's sake, that evermore
Thou may'st love on, through love's eternity