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.

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