I'm building one last bonfire friend, 'Twill measure to the yardstick's end; I'm bringing from the attic grey, Where dusty dreams were hid away -- Ambition, hope of great success, Old wrongs, and cravings for redress, Dreams of wealth and dreams of fame; And throwing all into the flame. I'm building slow to cremate here The dross of many a passing year; Selfish likes and fears of pain, And jealousies of others' gain; And the arrogance of willful youth And all the cold hard facts of truth I dare not look; the hurt's the same, But blindly fling them in the flame. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SUNFLOWER, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE DESERT FLOWERS by KEITH CASTELLAINE DOUGLAS TO A CHAMELEON by MARIANNE MOORE ODE [FOR MUSIC] ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY by ALEXANDER POPE ONCE WITH DEATH NEAR by REBA MAXWELL AVERY THE NURSE'S STORY: THE HAND OF GLORY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THEN AND NOW by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON |