These Stumbles
Sonnet — An Invocation to the Master #325
Published on April 12, 2022
These Stumbles
Sonnet — An Invocation to the Master #325
Ah my puzzler divine, confounder supreme,
How many mazes dost Thou fondly make
Pouring all Thy ingenuity in every little seam
For a dismal continuity without a break!
Dost Thou plot in secrecy of Thy chamber
To overrun every pathway to my joys,
Dost Thou map territory of all my ardour
And muse on patterns of Thy assaults?
Oh my marauder benign, baffler incarnate,
Do I ease the passing of sullen heaven-hours,
A covert thrill a dull spirit-bliss to compensate,
A little holiday from Thy business of fates?!
Yet, even this protracted tangle pleases me,
For these stumbles give pleasure to Thee!