Sonnet Ccxxiii:

I cannot think thou would'st forget me even Amidst the mystic jubilee above, My heart's great joy, my closely nestling dove, Though God's command our yearning souls had riven! Forget our love! Forget the seven times seven Knitted and interwoven links of love, That every stress and adverse current prove Stronger than any law which fate has given! No, no! My faith beholds thee once again, Waiting 'twixt bale and bliss, on neutral ground, In pallid hope for some far sight or sound; Braving the murky fumes and flaming rain, A league advanced beyond the guardian train, Dim-browed, and gazing into hell's profound.