Sonnet CCXX:
CCXX
Shall I not know thee in the life to be
By something proper unto thee alone—
Thy look, thy gait, thy voice’s liquid tone,
That there, as here, shall note thy rare degree?
From all the saints shall I not single thee,
Claim and receive thee wholly as my own;
Kneel for one judgment at the awful throne,
And hear our common sentence patiently?
Else were the higher order men foretell
As heaven’s estate, more lawless than the fate
We cast behind us in this troubled state;
And primal chaos music to the spell
That severs heart and spirit, lightless hell
Of sin’s remorse, and heaven of virtue’s rate.
