Testament

Why do I love thee? Shall my answer run:
Because that thou hast beauty, noble place,
Because of some sweet glamour in thy face,
And eyes that shame the clear light of the sun?

Shall I exclaim upon thy snow-white hands,
Challenge the world to show a gentler mien,
Call down the seraphs to attest, the sheen
Upon thy brow is borrowed from their lands?

Shall I trace out a map of all thy worth,
Parcel thy virtues, say, “For this and this
I learned to love her; here new charms had birth;

I in this territory caught a bliss”?
Shall I make inventory of thy grace,
And crowd the total into common space?