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 VOLUNTEER by HERBERT HENRY ASQUITH PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 68. AL-KADAR by EDWIN ARNOLD A SESTINA, IN IMITAION OF SIG. FRA. PETRARCA by PHILIP AYRES TO MR. BARBAULD, WITH A MAP OF THE LAND OF MATRIMONY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD WISCONSIN by CORA BLAKESLEE BEEBE |