The Fen-Fire.
The misty rain makes dim my face, The night's black cloak is o'er me; I tread the dripping cypress-place, A flickering light before me. Out of the death of leaves that rot And ooze and weedy water, My form was breathed to haunt this spot, Death's immaterial daughter. The owl that whoops upon the yew, The snake that lairs within it, Have seen my wild face flashing blue For one fantastic minute. But should you follow where my eyes Like some pale lamp decoy you, Beware! lest suddenly I rise With love that shall destroy you.
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"The misty rain makes dim my face,..."
Exploring the themes of classic, Madison Julius Cawein delivers a powerful performance in "The Fen-Fire."... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...