1. FIRE - A Sonnet Performed - To a Phoenix
Poor melancholy bird that burns with thee
Sings neither in her heart or in his woe;
From whence the youth of ages bends his bow
To fling from flame while festering in me.
How sees not the world those sparks of dread?
When something burns in song-breast or in hate
How more can bird on fire accept this fate –
Though you spiral in agony, oh to be lost overhead?
There is a certain peace in feathered embers
And the echoes of the ending of your strain:
Or going thus nor nest nor sky remembers
The paleness of that fire wrought again and again.
If now in leaving, tell my soul but this:
No fire in phoenix, to me is your song amiss.