Poems — Sonnet - The Neophyte

SONNET--THE NEOPHYTE

Who knows what days I answer for to-day: Giving the bud I give the flower.

I bow This yet unfaded and a faded brow;

Bending these knees and feeble knees, I pray.

Thoughts yet unripe in me I bend one way, Give one repose to pain I know not now, One leaven to joy that comes, I guess not how.

I dedicate my fields when Spring is grey.

Oh, rash!

(I smile) to pledge my hidden wheat.

I fold to-day at altars far apart Hands trembling with what toils?

In their retreat I seal my love to-be, my folded art.

I light the tapers at my head and feet, And lay the crucifix on this silent heart.