What Miracle Greater

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What Miracle Greater

Sonnet — An Invocation to The Master #115

Oh make me every bud that pines for Thy sun,
Infesting with aspiration gardens of the world,
Make each petal bloom like a victory won,
Each flower as me weaving for Thee a garland.

Oh adorn me at the heights of Thy feet,
By hue and fragrance hard wrought here
I shall bring from these depths to greet
Thee whom I have ached to be ever near.

Oh make me a hymn that pleases Thy ear,
Sounding only when it eases Thy moment,
My perfect cadence for Thee to once hear
I shall freely spend all the soul’s extent.

Thee I have adored through malaise of this world,
What miracle greater didst here ever unfold?