Sonnet-An Invocation to the Master #256
What fire hast Thou lit within
That burns every savour in everything?
It leaves but a patina thin
And all sap is given to its devouring.
Serenades now hardly comfort,
Nor the zephyr confers any ease,
All lullabies seem strangely quaint,
A ruse the human animal to please.
What fire hungers for more light?
By bright day it is unsatisfied
It broods in ember through night,
Only Thy name keeps it pacified.
Unfair is this manner of Thy dealing,
To taint me with fire and leave me reeling!