None Shall Know

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None Shall Know

Sonnet-An Invocation to the Master #259

When the long years are all accounted
For fresh fervour and marless yield,
When the seed of me is examined 
For all the produce it has issued,

Shall it be numbered, the part-opened bud,
The half-wilted flower and thorns crowded?
Will they matter, each breath pain burdened,
And attempt to gaze through a world veiled?

Shall it pass, the coin of heart devoted,
Each from a forge of ardour minted?
The will from thought’s quarry mined
Which in mind’s subterfuge was held?

None shall know, these soul sapping labours,
But Thou alone shall, O my only soul-accomplice!