Sonnet XIII

I fancied, while you stood conversing there,

Superb, in every attitude a queen,

Her ermine thus Boadicea bare,

So moved amid the multitude Faustine.

My life, whose whole religion Beauty is,

Be charged with sin if ever before yours A lesser feeling crossed my mind than his Who owning grandeur marvels and adores.

Nay, rather in my dream-world's ivory tower I made your image the high pearly sill,

And mounting there in many a wistful hour,

Burdened with love,

I trembled and was still,

Seeing discovered from that azure height Remote, untrod horizons of delight.