MY forefathers gave me <br />My spirit's shaken flame, <br />The shape of hands, the beat of heart, <br />The letters of my name. <br />But it was my lovers, <br />And not my sleeping sires, <br />Who gave the flame its changeful <br />And iridescent fires; <br />As the driftwood burning <br />Learned its jewelled blaze <br />From the sea's blue splendor <br />Of colored nights and days.<br /><br />Sara Teasdale<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/driftwood-18/
