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To Some I have Talked with by the Fire
| While I wrought out these fitful Danaan rhymes, | | My heart would brim with dreams about the times | | When
we bent down above the fading coals | | And talked of the dark folk who live in souls | | Of passionate men,
like bats in the dead trees; | | And of the wayward twilight companies | | Who sigh with mingled sorrow and
content, | | Because their blossoming dreams have never bent | | Under the fruit of evil and of good: | | And of
the embattled flaming multitude | | Who rise, wing above wing, flame above flame, | | And, like a storm, cry
the Ineffable Name, | | And with the clashing of their sword-blades make | | A rapturous music, till the morning
break | | And the white hush end all but the loud beat | | Of their long wings, the flash of their white feet. |
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By PanEris
using Melati.
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