Sonnet Ccxlviii:

Sometimes I see, in dreams astray from sleep, The blessed vision of a better lot Than such as we, poor souls, by God forgot, Can hope to find on land or stormy deep. Our chains are broken; what we loathe is not; And what we cherish is our own to keep, Not felon-like, as skulking thieves who creep With pilfered treasures round a dangerous spot; But boldly in the sight of smiling earth, And of the calm, approving powers above, We bear the fee of tried and granted worth. And somehow, Sweet--but here the shadows move, Confuse my dream, recall my care and dearth-- Somehow the whole is guerdon for our love.