All So Shy

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All So Shy

Sonnet

Where is thy strong hand O Storm,
Gentle thou seemest, almost unarmed?
Where O Fate is thy brow of dread,
That grim visage and perennial frown?

Where O Ill is thy harsh sting,
That malevolent uninvited dagger?
Where O Sorrow thou doth deliver
Thy mournful forlorn song?

Why O Titan thou doth not maraud
My scampered gains of toil?
Why O Doubt thou doth not foil
March of my muse ever forward?

Art thou all of the immortal Guest so shy
And shuffling by His presence so meekly?