Sonnet L:

L This is the perfect crown of all things here! So proud am I, in my own self-esteem, I touch myself with reverence, and seem A something set apart from all things near. I shrink from contact with a sacred fear; Lest the pollution of the common stream Should somewhat tarnish what you choose to deem Of so much value, so supremely dear. If I am churlish then, and chary grown To the world's handling, and recoil so wide From kindly looks with so austere a pride, Oh! do not you, whose gracious breath has blown This bubble in my spirit, stand aside, Distrusting that which proves me all your own.