Sonnet CCXLVIII:
Sometimes I see, in dreams astray from sleep,
The blessed vision of a better lot
Than such as we, poor souls, by God forgot,
Can hope to find on land or stormy deep.
Our chains are broken; what we loathe is not;
And what we cherish is our own to keep,
Not felon-like, as skulking thieves who creep
With pilfered treasures round a dangerous spot;
But boldly in the sight of smiling earth,
And of the calm, approving powers above,
We bear the fee of tried and granted worth.
And somehow, Sweet—but here the shadows move,
Confuse my dream, recall my care and dearth—
Somehow the whole is guerdon for our love.
