Tip It Now
Sonnet — An Invocation to the Master #294
Published on March 12, 2022
Tip It Now
Sonnet — An Invocation to the Master #294
How dost Thou huddle in my petty person
All Thy vastnesses and the heights,
Art Thou not cramped by an aversion
To all my proclivities and digressions?
Dost Thou like me tolerate the dilapidation
As natural handiwork of passing time?
For all things must crumble by ruination,
The vice from virtue, gross from sublime?
Twixt us is held the balance immemorial,
Thy singular perfection and my ignorance
Poised on some occult lever’s scale
Balanced for welfare of these worlds?
Oh tip it now and lean Thou to me,
For my sole cherished world is Thee.