I would have loved: there are no mates in heaven; <br />I would be great: there is no pride in heaven; <br />I would have sung, as doth the nightingale <br />The summer's night beneath the moone pale, <br />But Saintes hymnes alone in heaven prevail. <br />My love, my song, my skill, my high intent, <br />Have I within this seely book y-pent: <br />And all that beauty which from every part <br />I treasured still alway within mine heart, <br />Whether of form or face angelical, <br />Or herb or flower, or lofty cathedral, <br />Upon these sheets below doth lie y-spred, <br />In quaint devices deftly blazoned. <br />Lord, in this tome to thee I sanctify <br />The sinful fruits of worldly fantasy. <br /> <br /> <br />1839.<br /><br />Charles Kingsley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-an-illuminated-missal/
