Sonnet XIII
I fancied, while you stood conversing there,Superb, in every attitude a queen,Her ermine thus Boadicea bare,So moved amid the multitude Faustine.My life, whose whole religion Beauty is,Be charged with sin if ever before yoursA lesser feeling crossed my mind than hisWho owning grandeur marvels and adores.Nay, rather in my dream-world’s ivory towerI made your image the high pearly sill,And mounting there in many a wistful hour,Burdened with love, I trembled and was still,Seeing discovered from that azure heightRemote, untrod horizons of delight.