RENEWAL

            As the young phoenix, duteous to his sire,
            Lifts in his beak the creature he has been,
            And, laying o’er the corse broad vans for screen,
            Bears it to solitudes, erects a pyre,
            And, soon as it is wasted by the fire,
            Grides with disdainful claw the ashes clean,
            Then spreading unencumbered wings serene,
            Mounts to the æther with renewed desire:

            So joyously I lift myself above
            The life I buried in hot flames to-day;
            The flames themselves are dead—and I can range
            Alone through the untarnished sky I love,
            And trust myself, as from the grave one may,
            To the enchanting miracles of change

1895                                                                                                MICHAEL FIELD