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...LYING IN THE GRASS by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE A SONG OF LIFE by ABRAHAM IBN EZRA A SONG ABOUT SINGING by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH THE DEAD LEAF by ANTOINE VINCENT ARNAULT EPITAPH: JOHN TROT by WILLIAM BLAKE DEPARTURE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |