[I am afraid these verses will not please you, but] <br /> <br />If I esteemed you less, Envy would kill <br />Pleasure, and leave to Wonder and Despair <br />The ministration of the thoughts that fill <br />The mind which, like a worm whose life may share <br />A portion of the unapproachable, <br />Marks your creations rise as fast and fair <br />As perfect worlds at the Creator’s will. <br /> <br />But such is my regard that nor your power <br />To soar above the heights where others [climb], <br />Nor fame, that shadow of the unborn hour <br />Cast from the envious future on the time, <br />Move one regret for his unhonoured name <br />Who dares these words:--the worm beneath the sod <br />May lift itself in homage of the God.<br /><br />Percy Bysshe Shelley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-to-byron-2/
