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.