Sonnet Xi
What sounds, what pictures can express your grace?
I search my soul to lay fast claim on words
that will depict the worship you have stirred
with in my breast. Alas, they fly apace,
and I am mute. My love, I would abase
myself and to your merit mine defer;
o, could I conjure up the golden word
that would my imagery of you embrace!
I long to lift my voice in praise of thee;
yet, evermore in speechless wonder stand
that one who walks in nobl'st purity
would enter in and grace my barren land.
Do see my debt, my abject poverty,
how they must speak what words cannot command.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, 1987
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