I am the torch, she saith, and what to me <br />If the moth die of me? I am the flame <br />Of Beauty, and I burn that all may see <br />Beauty, and I have neither joy nor shame, <br />But live with that clear life of perfect fire <br />Which is to men the death of their desire. <br /> <br />I am Yseult and Helen, I have seen <br />Troy burn, and the most loving knight lie dead. <br />The world has been my mirror, time has been <br />My breath upon the glass; and men have said, <br />Age after age, in rapture and despair, <br />Love's poor few words, before mine image there. <br /> <br />I live, and am immortal; in mine eyes <br />The sorrow of the world, and on my lips <br />The joy of life, mingle to make me wise; <br />Yet now the day is darkened with eclipse; <br />Who is there lives for beauty? Still am I <br />The torch, but where's the moth that still dares die?<br /><br />Arthur Symons<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/modern-beauty-2/
