Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed and worthy of acceptation. Fire is bright, let temple burn, or flax; an equal light leaps in the flame from cedar-plank or weed: and love is fire. And when I say at need I love thee…mark!...I love thee—in thy sight I stand transfigured, glorified aright, with conscience of the new rays that proceed out of my face toward thine. There's nothing low in love, when love the lowest: meanest creatures who love God, God accepts while loving so. And what I feel, across the inferior features of what I am, doth flash itself, and show how that great work of Love enhances Nature's.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)