The fire I praise was once perduring flame- <br />Till it snuffs with our generation out; <br />No matter, it's all one, it's but a name <br />Not as late honeysuckle half so stout; <br />So think upon it how the fire burns blue, <br />Its hottest, when the flame is all but spent; <br />Thank God the fuel is low, well not renew <br />That length of flame into our firmament; <br />Think too the rooftree crackles and will fall <br />On us, who saw the sacred fury's height- <br />Seated in her tall chair, with the black shawl <br />From head to foot, burning with motherly light <br />More spectral than November dusk could mix <br />With sunset, to blaze on her pale crucifix.<br /><br />Allen Tate<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnets-of-the-blood-vi/
