Yet, Love, Mere Love, Is Beautiful Indeed And Worthy Of Acceptation. Fire Is Bright, Let Temple Burn, Or Flax; An Equal Light Leaps In The Flame From Cedar-Plank Or Weed: And Love Is Fire. And When I Say At Need I Love Thee . . . Mark! . . . I Love Thee, In Thy Sight I Stand Transfigured, Glorified Aright, With Conscience Of The New Rays That Proceed Out Of My Face Toward Thine. There'S Nothing Low In Love, When Love The Lowest: Meanest Creatures Who Love God, God Accepts While Loving So. And What I Feel, Across The Inferior Features Of What I Am, Doth Flash Itself, And Show How That Great Work Of Love Enhances Nature'S.