The Courtesies

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The Courtesies

Sonnet — An Invocation To The Master #354

Blest must be Thy halls, a wonder light-columned,
The walls all frescoed with our story through ages,
Daemons of wisdom and power and joy must stand
Like carved ether in their shining splendours.

Angst will have no entrance there, nor limit nor pain,
Matter’s contract with ignorance is there annulled,
The air thick with a lute’s sweet pining wine
Plumbing the heart with joys never dreamed.

Body, vital and mind shall stand as soul equals,
A celestial symmetry stand in all its nude glory,
The furies tamed lie couched on a purple rose
And all augurs be bright, a joy every prophecy!

Oh the courtesies of Thy halls shall be unmatched,
We but beseech Thy graces upon this earth ill-bred.