Sonnet Xliv. Written In An Interval Of Melancholy Foreboding Respecting The Church. Poem by Henry Alford

Herbert and Crashaw, and that other name
Now dear as those, of him beneath whose eye
Arose ``the second Temple's'' honoured frame,
After a carnal dark captivity,--
These are remembrances of promise high,
That set our smouldering energies on flame
To dare for our mother, and, if need, to die,
Sooner than blot her reverend cheek with shame.
O England, England, there hath twined among
The woof of all thy gloomiest destinies
A golden thread: a sound of sweetest song
Hath cheered thee under sad and threatening skies;
But thou hast revelled in the calm too long,
And waxest all unmindful where thy safety lies.