Sonnets for April



God takes his position as a universal pervading an event which is the process of the world. — C. M. PERRY

As, when the babe looks first, upon its mother.
All mystery its little eyes behold,
Athwart Identity confronting Other,
So did the All-Inclusive once of old
Bow to the prime necessity of Being,
Took Form as Actual, gave up his will,
Became as nothing for our better seeing,
The vaster law of living to fulfill.
Now and forever out of chaos striding,
Comes the Deliverer, the Patient One,
Suffering all, beneath no shelter hiding,
Limning a cross before the setting sun.
And from that death comes forth the All-Pervading,
In whom the Finite dwells and knows no fading.


THROUGH all the night the winds went down the sky
Like coursing hounds on some intangent trail.
Across the moon’s face fled a tattered veil,
A cloudy remnant of a day gone by.
Remote and tremulous an owl gave cry,
A bloodless being in a lonesome dale,
And after endless hours, cold and pale,
The wainscot and the window chilled the eye.
So when at last he could endure no more,
And rising saw the sun begin to shine
Along the path beyond the kitchen door
On barberry, sweet fern, juniper, and pine,
An old thought stirred, and wandered forth to seek
New England April, beautiful and bleak.