But Most Thy Light

I know how fire burns,     How from the wrangling fumes     Rose and amber blooms,     And slowly dies.     Nothing's so swift as fire,     There's nothing alive so fierce.     The lifted lances pierce,     Sink, and upspring.     Like an Indian sword it leaps     Out of the smoking sheath.     Even the winged feet of death     Learn speed from fire;     And pain its cunning learns;     Languor its sweet     From the decaying heat     That never dies.     I know how fire burns     Unguessed, save for tears,     When the thousand-fanged flame spears     The body's guard;     Or when the mind, the mind     Is ever-glowing wood,     And fire runs in the blood     Lunatic, blind;     When remorse burns and burns     And burns always, always--     The fire that surest slays     Or surest numbs.     I know how fire burns     But how I cannot tell.     And Heaven burns like Hell     Yet the Heart endures.     'Tis the immortal Flame     In mortal life that's bitter,     Or than all sweet sweeter     Though life burns down.     Teach me, fire, but this,     Nor alone destroying burn:--     Of thy warmth let me learn,     But most thy light.