A SONNET TO A FRIEND
YOUNG bright-plumed eagle, prince of pure heaven’s fire,
Inhabitant of glory clothed in light,
Exalt me to this new triumphant pyre
That burns the shades and monsters of our night,
Vouchsafe thy spirit; touch me with the power
So to desire, and so maintain my voice
As thou, who in thy fair ascending hour
Hawk’st in the top of morning at thy joys;
O mortal splendour in immortal beams,
Or deathless ghost, who buildest out of dust
An edifice of temporal flame which seems
Beyond the movement of our change and rust,
Though it must die; O sheer delight above me,
Fountain of undescended love, I love thee.