Many of you are familiar with Elizabeth Barrett Browning's poem, "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways ..."

She lived from the beginning of the 1800's to just before a time when so many hearts were torn to shreds ...by the Civil War.

By reading her poem here, much can be revealed about probable views she likely had ...and it can serve us well also to realize that things are often fought for, that have great value for our future.  

And those things usually come at a high cost through the courage and bravery of soldiers, to work for and preserve what we believe in.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

I love 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 love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. I love thee with a passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

Now that you've had an example of good poetry ...it's my turn. 

I also believe in love, but let me also give a bit of background of my life.  What we don't usually think too much about, is that our life kind of begins before we actually consider it our life. 

My friend 'Wiki' says: "Subsidies originated during the Great Depression and the Dust Bowl catastrophe of the 1930s, when there was a genuine fear that the nation's agricultural sector was on the brink of collapse. At that time, about a quarter of the country's population lived in rural areas, and tens of thousands of American families found themselves literally in danger of "losing the farm." So President Roosevelt pushed through the Agricultural Adjustment Act, which pegged crop prices to their historic highs and introduced the policy of paying farmers not to produce. It was supposed to be a "temporary solution to deal with an emergency."  

But, this policy continued on.  It seemed most of the people where Dad grew up, were farmers.  Where Mom grew up, there were some miners ...and later, a different sort that I'm thankful for.  I remember as a child, that my Uncle got money from the government for not growing corn.  I wonder how much money the government would give me for not writing 'corny' poetry??