Put Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's "The Cross of Snow" alongside Elizabeth Barrett Browning's "How Do I Love Thee?" and you find two sonnets addressing the same theme—a marriage, a spouse, a love that transcends everyday existence—yet they emerge from entirely different experiences of loss.
Poets
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow / Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Years
—
Chapter
Love Letters
§01 The thesis
The Cross of Snow & How Do I Love Thee
A reader's case for putting these two side by side — what each carries, and what they argue when they sit on the same page.
This difference in intent encapsulates the essence of their works. One poet is constructing something new; the other bears a burden he cannot set down. Both sonnets grapple with the notion that love endures beyond death, but Barrett Browning expresses it as a hope, while Longfellow conveys it as a wound. Together, they create a unified narrative: the vow spoken and the price of keeping that vow when only one person remains.
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§02 The dialectic axes
The two poems on four axes
Each axis isolates one specific vector — speaker, form, image, closing move — and reads the two poems against each other on that single dimension.
Axis
Poem A
The Cross of Snow
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Poem B
How Do I Love Thee
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
01Speaker
Poem A · The Cross of Snow
Longfellow writes in solitude, in the shadows, during "the long, sleepless watches of the night." He sits alone with a portrait. The poem wasn’t ever sent out for publication—it feels like a note meant for no one, or perhaps just for himself.
Poem B · How Do I Love Thee
Barrett Browning addresses a beloved who is very much alive. The opening question — "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways" — suggests that there is someone present to hear the response. The poem feels personal yet also looks outward.
02Form
Poem A · The Cross of Snow
Longfellow employs a Petrarchan sonnet format, featuring an octave that introduces the setting (the portrait, the room, the deceased wife's saintly soul) and a sestet that presents the main image of the mountain cross. The volta is clear and well-structured.
Poem B · How Do I Love Thee
Barrett Browning also writes in the Petrarchan style, but her volta focuses on emotions instead of images. The octave presents love in lofty terms, while the sestet shifts to personal reflections — past sorrows, lost saints, breaths, smiles, and tears — before ultimately turning toward death.
03Central Image
Poem A · The Cross of Snow
The cross of snow on a mountain in the American West — defying the sun, everlasting, tucked away in deep ravines. It’s a natural mark that no season can wipe away. Longfellow bears its equivalent on his chest: grief that resembles devotion.
Poem B · How Do I Love Thee
Barrett Browning doesn't rely on a single defining image. Instead, her love acts as a measurement that continually expands—spatially, morally, emotionally, and spiritually. The poem's strength lies in its accumulation rather than a singular, fixed depiction.
04Closing Move
Poem A · The Cross of Snow
Longfellow concludes with a sense of stasis: "changeless since the day she died." The last word is "died." There's no comfort provided, no promise of reunion. The cross remains unchanged. This captures both the sorrow and the homage.
Poem B · How Do I Love Thee
Barrett Browning concludes with movement: "I shall but love thee better after death." This is a promise, not a certainty — prefaced with "if God choose" — yet the emotion conveyed is one of growth, not stagnation. Love keeps expanding even beyond the limits of life.
§03 Synthesis & departure
The shared ground and the divergence
Shared
Both poems are sonnets—fourteen lines, a shift in tone, and a conclusion that feels definitive. They both draw from real-life marriages: Barrett Browning crafted her sequence during her courtship and early marriage to Robert Browning, while Longfellow wrote his sonnet as he gazed at a portrait of Fanny on his bedroom wall, in the very room where she passed away. Each poem strives for a sense of elevation—Barrett Browning's love aspires to "the depth and breadth and height / My soul can reach," while Longfellow's sorrow climbs to a mountain in the far West. They both depict love as something that transcends ordinary time and seasons. Additionally, both employ religious language, even though they aren't strictly religious poems: Barrett Browning refers to "ideal Grace" and "childhood's faith," while Longfellow describes Fanny's soul as "more white" than any martyrdom could taint, with the mountain's cross being unmistakably a cross. Faith becomes the language both poets turn to when everyday words fail them.
Where they diverge
The sharpest difference lies in the use of tense. Barrett Browning's poem is firmly in the present: "I love thee," repeated eight times. This love feels active and ongoing, continuously revealing new dimensions. In contrast, Longfellow's poem shifts at the sestet into a singular, fixed image — the cross of snow that has remained "changeless since the day she died." While Barrett Browning gathers various elements (depth, breadth, height, everyday need, freedom, purity, passion, faith), Longfellow focuses on one unchanging thing that cannot be altered.
Another notable difference is the audience. Barrett Browning speaks directly to someone who can hear her. The entire poem is directed at a "thee" who is alive and present. Longfellow, on the other hand, addresses a portrait on a wall — a face that "looks at me" but offers no response. His poem lacks a "thee" to engage with. The love expressed has nowhere to go, which is precisely his point. Barrett Browning's sonnet is an offering; Longfellow's is a confession without a confessor.
§04 A reader's order of operations
Which to read first
If you're familiar with "How Do I Love Thee?" take a look at "The Cross of Snow" to see what such love becomes after the beloved is lost. Longfellow conveys the same deep devotion, the same feeling that this love transcends everyday existence — but without the promise of a future. If Longfellow was your introduction, Barrett Browning's poem may strike you with its boldness and sense of direction. She lists the ways because she still has time to do so. This contrast in urgency holds the key lesson.
§05 Reader's questions
On The Cross of Snow vs How Do I Love Thee, frequently asked
Answer
They aren't typically paired together, but you’ll find them more frequently in thematic units focused on love poetry and marriage than in standard survey courses. This combination has become more popular as educators seek to present sonnets in conversation with each other instead of treating them in isolation.
Answer
Barrett Browning's sonnet came out in 1850 as part of *Sonnets from the Portuguese*. Longfellow wrote 'The Cross of Snow' in 1879 but chose not to publish it; it was published posthumously in 1886, three years after he passed away.
Answer
From Barrett Browning, it’s typically the opening lines: "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways." In Longfellow's work, the most frequently quoted lines are the closing couplet: "Such is the cross I wear upon my breast / These eighteen years, through all the changing scenes / And seasons, changeless since the day she died."
Answer
No one really knows for sure, but the poem feels intensely personal—composed in the very room where Fanny passed away and reflecting a grief he bore for eighteen years. Publishing it might have seemed like crossing a boundary into something deeply private. It was discovered among his belongings after he died.
Answer
Yes. The *Sonnets from the Portuguese* sequence captures her emotions during her courtship with Robert Browning. She initially kept the sonnets to herself, but Robert urged her to share them with the world. The title served as a subtle cover—"from the Portuguese" suggested they were translations instead of personal confessions.
Answer
No. For Barrett Browning, death is a boundary that love transcends and continues to flourish: "I shall but love thee better after death." In Longfellow's view, death serves as a reference point for everything else. It isn’t a crossing but a pause — the moment the cross became unchangeable.
Answer
It is an actual geographical feature—a cross-shaped snowfield found on Mount of the Holy Cross in Colorado, which Longfellow likely recognized from landscape paintings and early photographs. He employs it as a metaphor for his grief: a mark that neither sun nor season can alter, resting on the mountain just as sorrow rests on his chest.