O Lurer

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O Lurer

Sonnet

How many faces are Thine, O divine diamond,
Each radiating streams of the ecstasies seven,
In all Thou art a living Pearl in bodies housed,
Like a talisman of heaven, our personal sun.

O Lurer tempting our hearts to sorrow and grief 
By Thy lute music and the promise of a kiss,
Refuting with each stinging pang naive belief
That lurks in our heart with an ardour’s force.

Why must Thou dwell in abyss eschewing heights,
Daring our nerves with this grim night proximate?
Why must the sun-born suffer deplorable depths,
Where the wolf of despair our tread doth pursuest?

Oh come not with Thy mask of inscrutable purpose,
When by a flick of will Thou canst a world compose!