But Most Thy Light

I know how fire burns,

How from the wrangling fumes

Rose and amber blooms,

And slowly dies.

Nothing's so swift as fire,

There's nothing alive so fierce.

The lifted lances pierce,

Sink, and upspring.

Like an Indian sword it leaps

Out of the smoking sheath.

Even the winged feet of death

Learn speed from fire;

And pain its cunning learns;

Languor its sweet

From the decaying heat

That never dies.

I know how fire burns

Unguessed, save for tears,

When the thousand-fanged flame spears

The body's guard;

Or when the mind, the mind

Is ever-glowing wood,

And fire runs in the blood

Lunatic, blind;

When remorse burns and burns

And burns always, always--

The fire that surest slays

Or surest numbs.

I know how fire burns

But how I cannot tell.

And Heaven burns like Hell

Yet the Heart endures.

'Tis the immortal Flame

In mortal life that's bitter,

Or than all sweet sweeter

Though life burns down.

Teach me, fire, but this,

Nor alone destroying burn:--

Of thy warmth let me learn,

But most thy light.