SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE

SONNET X

Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed,
And worthy of acceptation.  Fire is bright,
Let temple burn, or flax!  An equal light
Leaps in the flame from cedar-plank or weed.
And love is fire: and when I say at need
I love thee . . . mark! . . . I love thee! . . . in thy sight
I stand transfigured, glorified aright,
With conscience of the new rays that proceed
Out of my face toward thine.  There's nothing low
In love, when love the lowest; meanest creatures
Who love God, God accepts while loving so.
And what I feel, across the inferior features
Of what I am, doth flash itself, and show
How that great work of Love enhances Nature's.

 


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