Sonnet CLXXIX:
I do not falter in the sight of God;
This bare-browed standing in His awful view,
Strips the illusions off my soul, that grew
Like weeds, upspringing from the mortal clod.
Let what is earthy mingle with thy sod,
And feed the flowers that glimmer in the dew;
What reeks the spirit, if the change undo
The heavy fetters of its carnal load?
In that communion, in the very clay,
Before my soul was conscious of its wings,
I have had insight of celestial things;
Have learned that humble Love has power to lay
His hand upon the amaranthine rings,
As well as they who daily fast and pray.
