FARTH'S SACRAMENTS. (2)

In the high windows of a house asleep
Set in deep woods and staring on the sea
I sat alone, and vainly tried to keep
The rain-curled hair the autumn wind was blowing
Out of my eyes, a gutter overflowing
Chimed with the heavy rain's song quietly.

His letters in a carved box at my side,
I took a knife and a great jar and fire:
"Burn some, lest all be lost" my daimon cried.
And so I made division, to my reading
Each word picked out with stars and heart's fire
bleeding, What flame to match the light of our desire?

Then some I thrust down in the jar's deep throat,
A Roman burial urn, fit sepulchre
For all the fire and pride of him who wrote.
The flames leapt out and flickered on my face
All blue and gold, and I knelt down to lace
The burning jar in my white arms and stir —

The ashes with a knife keen as our love.

Corn we have shared between us both, earth's gift,
Now fire, a purer sacrement, I strove

Alone there by the sea. All things we shared,
All things accomplished, and have all things dared.
Our feet are unafraid and our wings swift.