Beauty

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Beauty

Sonnet — An Invocation to the Master #346

He brought not knowledge to our battle,
No insights acute nor visions complete,
For the scaffold of mind was yet brittle
To receive His thoughts Truth-replete.

He revealed not grandeur of His works,
For how wide could my conceptions go,
How would I ever know why a bee hums
Or why a flower its bud-bed would show?

Oh He but came with a sword of beauty
And a fatal front that none can escape,
I succumb to His transcendence slowly,
For against His beauty I have no hope.

Oh, slay me Beloved with Thy hundred strokes,
To glimpse Thy beauty I consent to these lives!