J.B. Toner
Too long on shades and darksome crouching things My gaze has dimly dwelt, concupiscent; Away from day clear-eyed my eyes have bent, Towards twilit secrets' languid beckonings— And now a shining anguish dayshine brings: And ever deeper into darkness sent, My toadstool heart is by my lustings pent In spider-courts of pale and shadowed kings. But though I lack the grace to ask for grace, And wince to rise, and flinch to seek a hand— The Good, the True, the Beautiful, the One, At just one murmur's breath would show His Face, At one bare moment's prayer would help me stand, And lift my chin to stare into the sun.
