Sonnets. I

The starry flower, the flower-like stars that fadeAnd brighten with the daylight and the dark, --The bluet in the green I faintly mark,And glimmering crags with laurel overlaid,Even to the Lord of light, the Lamp of shade,Shine one to me, -- the least, still glorious madeAs crownèd moon, or heaven's great hierarch.And, so, dim grassy flower, and night-lit spark,Still move me on and upward for the True;Seeking through change, growth, death, in new and old.The full in few, the statelier in the less,With patient pain; always remembering this, --His hand, who touched the sod with showers of gold,Stippled Orion on the midnight blue.