Sonnet Ci:
G
George Henry Boker
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I love you with each fibre of this frame,
Sentient and moral. I have sought that spot
Throughout my nature, where my love is not,
To give the blemish up to instant shame.
Ah! fruitless search! An all-pervading flame
Cleanses my being, whitens every blot
Upon a past that threatened once to rot
The brightest laurel of your poet's fame.
Blessed redemption! When I kneeled to you,
In the first passion of my contrite days,
I only dared this humble thing to sue:
That you would make me fit to sing your praise,
Untainted by my worship. So! You raise
My heart with this: 'Yea, fit to love me, too!'
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