Canto LXI

If, in thy second state sublime,    Thy ransom'd reason change replies    With all the circle of the wise, The perfect flower of human time;

And if thou cast thine eyes below,    How dimly character'd and slight,    How dwarf'd a growth of cold and night, How blanch'd with darkness must I grow!

Yet turn thee to the doubtful shore,    Where thy first form was made a man;    I loved thee, Spirit, and love, nor can The soul of Shakespeare love thee more.

-Alfred Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam A. H. H., Canto LXI