The poem
Man I am and man would be, Love--merest man and nothing more. Bid me seem no other! Eagles boast of pinions--let them soar! I may put forth angel's plumage, once unmanned, but not before.
Now on earth to stand suffices,--nay, if kneeling serves, to kneel: Here you front me, here I find the all of heaven that earth can feel: Sense looks straight,--not over,under,--perfect sees beyond appeal.
Good you are and wise, full circle: what to me were more outside? Wiser wisdom, better goodness? Ah, such want the angel's wide Sense to take and hold and keep them! Mine at least has never tried.