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Phoenix
Reason, and then all This rancor that I know; Power, and then this pall, This dread I undergo; Knowledge, a straight flame, And after, the whirling cloud Of grief, anger and shame; These, also the proud, The still unspoken high Desire, I ponder, and how To cleanse an ardor I Would not disavow. I would not starve the flame Though it consume my being. Let it burn my narrow name, My jangled disagreeing, Burn, burn, till in the ash, Cold and fine and pure- An ember for its flesh- The fabulous bird shall stir.