Sonnet CCLXXVII:
If any comfort lies within the zone
Of ruddy gold that round thy finger clings;
If from the ruby’s steady radiance springs
A deeper thought than e’er was graved in stone;
If the far region, yet to be o’erflown
By orbing faith upon her deathless wings,
Makes grave thy heart, and gives to earthly things
The holy import of a life unknown;
Then not in vain the cunning artist wrought
Into the substance of this precious toy
The subtle meaning of my solemn thought;
And not in vain 'mid days that would destroy
All faith, thou standest, as a priestess caught
In heavenly visions with a face of joy
