Her whose heart death could not keep from o’erflowing
For thee, immortal essence as thou art,[[197]]
Great is their love who love in sin and fear;
And such, I feel, are waging in my heart
A war unworthy: to an Adamite
Forgive, my Seraph! that such thoughts appear.
For sorrow is our element....
· · · · ·
The hour is near
Which tells me we are not abandoned quite.