Sonnet Cccxiii: Poem by George Henry Boker

By thy own truth, Beloved, I am true!
I swear by that in which I most believe;
Explore thy heart; if there thou canst perceive
A taint of weakness, that far charge me too.
I knew at starting--ah! too well I knew,
And trembled at the knowledge--on that eve
When my first kisses made thy bosom heave,
That staid reflection might thy faith undo.
I must admit, it seems a strange abuse
That one like me is privileged to bear
Love's sacred essence with thee, share for share.
Olympian nectar, in a peasant's cruse,
Would make clay holy by its holy use,
A common stock with sculptured gold compare.