Sonnet: Hidden Virtue

I thought, one day, I wrote a thing of beauty.
Later on, when taking it in hand,
And sharing it with those, as was my duty;
Neither they, nor I, could understand.

The virtue of a verse is that its meaning,
Often may completely hidden be.
And God, it seems, prefers a lack of gleaning;
With His truth revealed more cryptically.

I thought I could, from Heaven, feel Him looking;
Sung my hymn about it, none could hear;
Though none would deign to join me in my brooking;
Never did a votary appear.

I read, again, my words much later; and
I finally began to understand.

Intro: One Thing

Once I wrote a thing
I thought very beautiful.
I read it later.

Did not understand.
All its meaning was hidden
From me and others.

The virtue of verse
Is that its meaning may be
Completely hidden.

God seems to like it,
Almost always, done that way.
He watches it all

From above. I saw
Also, and sung about it,
And no one heard me,

And no one sang back.
I listened very closely,
And I heard nothing.

I read it again
Much later; and finally,
I understood it.