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.

Structure

20 lines · 4 stanzas