Sonnet CLX:
The way I walk, an angel of God’s throne,
The dearest, brightest, oft with drooping wings,
Bound on a mission amongst earthly things,
Treads, as the nearest path to angels known.
O mighty Seraph, do not thou disown
The mounting pilgrim, though the song he sings
Too much, perchance, with human passion rings,
And grates and falters in its purest tone!
’Tis true that I bedim thy holy way
With worldly dust, and my unhallowed feet
With uncouth marks thy even footprints beat.
I am unworthy, in this vile array,
To stand before thee; and I can but say,
I wandered hither and see no retreat.
