I Thank All Gods That I Can Let Thee Go, Lady, Without One Thought, One Base Desire To Tarnish That Clear Vision I Gained By Fire, One Stain In Me I Would Not Have Thee Know. That Is Great Might Indeed That Moves Me So To Look Upon Thy Form, And Yet Aspire To Look Not There, Rather Than I Should Mire That Wing'D Spirit That Haunts And Guards Thy Brow. So Now I See Thee Go, Secure In This That What I Have Is Thee, That Whole Of Thee Whereof Thy Fair Infashioning Is Sign: For I See Honour, Love, And Wholesomeness, And Striving Ever To Reach Them, And To Be As They, I Keep Thee Still; For They Are Thine.