BY feathers green, across Casbeen The pilgrims track the Phoenix flown, By gems he strew'd in waste and wood, And jewell'd plumes at random thrown. Till wandering far, by moon and star, They stand beside the fruitful pyre, Where breaking bright with sanguine light The impulsive bird forgets his sire. Those ashes shine like ruby wine, Like bag of Tyrian murex spilt, The claw, the jowl of the flying fowl Are with the glorious anguish gilt. So rare the light, so rich the sight, Those pilgrim men, on profit bent, Drop hands and eyes and merchandise, And are with gazing most content. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BAT by CHARLES LUTWIDGE DODGSON THE MERRY SUMMER MONTHS by WILLIAM MOTHERWELL ALL THIS by REBA MAXWELL AVERY JEHANE by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR THE FLITCH OF DUNMOW by JAMES CARNEGIE TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 2. WINGS by EDWARD CARPENTER |