Ode to the tracks
How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways.
I hate thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I hate thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I hate thee freely, as men strive for right.
I hate thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I hate thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I hate thee with a hate I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I hate thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but hate thee better after death