I love you,Not only for what you are,But for what I amWhen I am with you.I love you,Not only for whatYou have made of yourself,But for whatYou are making of me.I love youFor the part of meThat you bring out;I love youFor putting your handInto my heaped-up heartAnd passing overAll the foolish, weak thingsThat you cant helpDimly seeing there,And for drawing outInto the lightAll the beautiful belongingsThat no one else had lookedQuite far enough to find.I love you because youAre helping me to makeOf the lumber of my lifeNot a tavernBut a temple;Out of the worksOf my every dayNot a reproachBut a song.I love youBecause you have doneMore than any creedCould have doneTo make me goodAnd more than any fateCould have doneTo make me happy.You have done itWithout a touch,Without a word,Without a sign.You have done itBy being yourself.Perhaps that is whatBeing a friend means,After all.
