Attracted by the lure of candlelight, A moth came through the window of my room; His whirring wings in their delirious flight, Drew ever narrowing spirals toward the doom Of fiery darts which pierced and made him fall A dusty, quiet heap, -- until the breath Of life began to stir again and call Another movement in that dance of death. A fire more dreadful than our dreams of hell, Is war whose touch is agony and grief; It has enthralled us in its tragic spell Although with tears and prayers we ask relief; But since we always seek the flame again, I wonder whether we are moths or men? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RODNEY'S RIDE [JULY 3, 1776] by ELBRIDGE STREETER BROOKS ONE LIFE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE COMING STORM' (A PICTURE BY R. S. GIFFORD) by HERMAN MELVILLE AFTER THE BATTLE (OF AUGHRIM) by THOMAS MOORE ECCLESIASTICAL SONNETS: PART 2: 25. THE VIRGIN by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |