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 yourself, 
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
Quite 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 my 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 sign.
You have done it
By being yourself. 
Perhaps that is what
being a friend means, 
After all.