Sonnet VIII.

Our minds were form'd by nature far apart,
And with few common sympathies endued:
Thine ardent and most active, and imbued
With thirst intense for truth, which thou, with heart
Faithful and pure and incorrupt by art
Sophistical, hast patiently pursued;
While I, in dreaming and fantastic mood,
Too indolent for such high goal to start,
Have wasted, in crude fancies, half my days.
Yet must we two be friends; if not for aught
Innate in both (which doubtless we shall find),
Yet for the love which thy true spirit sways,
Towards two dear objects of my holiest thought,
With both our future prospects close entwined.