Sonnet L:
L
This is the perfect crown of all things here!
So proud am I, in my own self-esteem,
I touch myself with reverence, and seem
A something set apart from all things near.
I shrink from contact with a sacred fear;
Lest the pollution of the common stream
Should somewhat tarnish what you choose to deem
Of so much value, so supremely dear.
If I am churlish then, and chary grown
To the world’s handling, and recoil so wide
From kindly looks with so austere a pride,
Oh! do not you, whose gracious breath has blown
This bubble in my spirit, stand aside,
Distrusting that which proves me all your own.
