Ashes of me, Lift on the fires I may not name; Lick, lovely flame. Will the fagot not burn? Throw on the tired broom, Stabled still in my room. I have ridden wide and well, Shall I say with whom? Stop the town bell! Hard eyes that stare, I have lain with hope, I have suckled Judas' rope As it swung on the air; @3Go find the silver pieces in the moon, I hid them there.@1 |